


Of Love and Lies

by sultryzucchini



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Angst attempt., Cheater, Eventual Smut, F/M, FF, Family, Fanfiction, Levi cheater, Marriage, Modern, Moving On, Nope not really, Romance, aot - Freeform, headcanon inspired, rekindling the fire, short reads, slowburn, smutfest, snk, so much drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultryzucchini/pseuds/sultryzucchini
Summary: A chapstick in his coat pocket, then a ginger hair in his trousers...eventually a phone well-hidden in a secret compartment in his trunk. You can leave, but it doesn't mean he can't come back.Spin-off starts at 20.Last chapter reposted.
Relationships: Levi & Petra Ral, Levi & Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) & Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/You, Levi/Petra Ral, Levi/Reader, Oluo Bozado/Petra Ral
Comments: 136
Kudos: 230





	1. Holding Back the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knew. His Lies. But you have not made it known to them that you do as you ponder what to do next.

* * *

It didn't bother you at first, but you have to admit, it left you _curious_.

The stained chapstick in his coat pocket.

Then came the short, ginger hair in his trousers.

If it wasn't for a phone you found well-hidden in a secret compartment at the back of his car, you wouldn't start snooping for his... _indiscretions_.

"Ma'am, th-that concludes our report." Somebody's voice was buzzing around the room until your mind came to. _Focus_ —something that you are proud of, no matter the pressure of an urgent deadline, now slumbered at the back of your head. You're supposed to be level headed at all times. It's just that, your thoughts lingered to the closed doors of _his_ office far too many times than you care to count.

You smiled, as tenderly as you practiced in the morning, and the days _after_ knowing _it_.

"That's good, I guess. Team," you called the freshly, handpicked team mates you are working on this project on. "please send me the copies today. I'll review them later and send it back for revisions." A smile too motherly than you have showed, linger in your lips. "That'll be all."

Then your thoughts lingered at the contents of the phone you discovered two weeks ago.

A vacation in Coron, Palawan

His hand held Petra's.

With the cliché pose of leading him around, his wedding band visible and painfully recognizable to you.

_His wife._

Then came the picture of Kenneth, Erwin, Farlan and Isabel tight together with their hands on wine glasses. Petra and your husband, doing the same.

A toast over your naïveté, perhaps?

The scandalous correspondence.

You bit your lip; the exhaustion from your thoughts dawned in your eyebrows. The makeup did its trick; it hid the long nights you've either work late or pretend to be asleep.

You don't cry anymore. You're saving the sappy tears and hid them well in the density of your bones. Hatred throb in your skull. How did he do it? How did he manage to scheme this grandiose plan of seemingly blatant adultery that only you seemed to not know about?

When did this start?

Why did this start?

Who else knew?

Who else _**agreed**_ to keep this monstrosity from you?

Did he come home after spending an orgasm or two over Petra?

Did he have **sex** with you when he comes home because he finds it _amusing_ that he has what it takes to make you **_cum_** even after he did it to Petra?

Was she the only woman he slept with?

Were there _more_?

You needed some air. For the love of Paradis, you needed some damn air. But the man of the hour did not let you have any of it.

"Wanna go have lunch?" He swung the glass door, unbitten by the turmoil you hastily hid behind your sparkling, rehearsed smile. Your eyes never reached the authenticity of the affirmative emotion you ought to display, but he never saw it. Maybe he chose to ignore it, but ignored by all means. "Olou and Petra's coming with us."

"I'll just get my purse."

He walked towards you, your instinct almost instructed your feet to step back, but reason won. You let him come near you, his usual fresh linen smell engulfed your olfactory. "You'll have salad with the salmon again, I know you."

"That doesn't sound bad." You acted like you were 2 weeks before. Maybe that's why he decided to taste another because he always got the same, old, naïve, good-natured, vanilla dish that you are.

You're good for him, but bland for his taste.

That's why he wanted something spicy, something with sauce. Not some limp, saltless appetizer that you are. You know him— his diet is lax, and maybe his relationships too, the way he sees you, and the connection you thought you have with him.

**Stop**.

**Stop it.**

He looked outside, and you too noticed, most people are out for lunch. His lips touched your forehead—it lingered: his warmth and his scent.

"I won't be home for dinner tonight, so we'll have lunch to make up, is that okay?"

"Yes Levi."


	2. His Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You played the dumb and the dumber in their little charade... but you're not just anyone's wife for 7 years.

* * *

"Levi's gonna get a promotion soon!" Petra chirped, gay. Stabbing her plate and twirl around that spaghetti and curry fusion people have been buzzing around. She did have the glow in her eyes; the constant anything-but-mundane mood she always wear. Her soft pastels in earthy tones, yet sophisticated attire she fits to. Maybe he wants the polished look. You wear those too! But according to the season, you always find yourself incorporating a little floral in spring, a turtleneck in autumn and fine, crisp whites and cool shades in summer.

Maybe it was the hair.

You lingered your sight to her head and her sides. _Oh_ how you want to bash her head in the table. Make it bleed until a _**dent**_ bold her temple. But you would not do that. You're far more refined; more level headed and the level of education and work ethic shows.

You held a smile, sipping your tea.

"I didn't know that! I'm sure you're the first to know, Petra." You faked a glee. Tea cup _civilly_ banging the saucer. "You want to surprise me that much, Levi?"

"I'm not one for surprises, you know that." He sipped his tea. "But it could've been better if I saw your reaction first, alone." He lifted his lashes to lazily corner your attention.

"F/N," the Petra held out her hand, a ring in her finger. "Olou proposed to me!" she sure was happy. If Oluo would have known about this, you don't think she'll have that same expression in her cute cute face. Or maybe she was just happy your husband's dick poke her loose woman cave. You smiled—a toothy grin at that. Fake—plastic, however you call it, but it sure passed as genuine.

"I'm happy for you, Petra." You glanced at Levi, nonchalant about the revelation. It sure did not shake him to his core. You were searching for sadness, panic— but his eyes did casual. Calm. Stoic.

"Are you not, Levi?"

"I am." He lifted his tea. "Oluo is a very lucky man."

"Very lucky indeed." you continued, helping yourself with the sweetened sticky rice.

"Are you sure you should be eating that?" She chirped in. "It's always good to take care of your figure, F/N."

"What are you saying? She looks amazing Petra." Levi defended before you could say anything. It was true. Maybe at least for him. Jeans, skirts, dresses or shirts, you _thought_ you looked amazing. One thing you have not tried wearing outside were bikinis. Levi always say you should never wear a bikini without the cover up. He would always tell you to get something modest. Nothing distracting, just something to keep you from being seen by any other person than him. Or in his terms: 'I can't let them look at something I prefer to keep to myself.'

 _Bullshit_.

Yet he and Petra sure like going to beach vacations—somewhere you've never been and probably will never be. Tanned, bikined, topless, sweaty, musky scent of sex simulates your senses. The bitter taste of their betrayal playing in your tongue as they lap theirs over and over and _over_ again.

"Oluo, don't just sit there—tell them too!" Petra tapped her fiancé's arm, telling him off to defend her. "What do you want me to say? Of course you look stunning, Petra—" he bit his tongue. 

You smiled wider, trying to be patient with the play unfolding in front of you. You feel sorry for the guy; not because he bit his tongue, but because soon, he will be united with Petra.

Man and _Wife_.

Man and _Whore_.

Man and _Home wrecker._

There was not much of a difference.

"This was nice, we should do it again, soon." You lifted up, tea almost sipped clean, dessert half eaten. You don't even know if that was because she got under your skin. "But I have some more proposals from Erwin I need to go over." You looked at Levi—your two-timing husband. "I'll have to go now."

His steel colored eyes seemed to realize something.

Of course he couldn't have. Or could he?

* * *

The runt had her thing going for her, which I have to admit, is quite alluring.

12:45 PM it says.

"I need to go too. Petra, I need yourreport on expenses for June to August this year. Also," Oluo sure can be quite clingy. It wouldn't be a wild guess if Oluo wimps like that after Petra fucks him dry. Well, after I fuck her clean anyways.

"don't leave coffee stains on the papers. It's unbecoming."

Tonight would be the last time I fuck her.

Last time, Levi. _Last_.

* * *

"Rough time?" My wife of 7 years looked exactly the same I saw her 12 years ago. The same grace she brought with her wherever she went. Her fingers hailed cab after cab, only to be disappointed that someone beat her to it.

Lately, she'd been kind of.. how do I put it? Out of it? Distant? Probably a mix of both. She sleeps in too early from the usual, or too late for the routine; she's always on her phone, talking to someone about deadlines she once rarely get bothered about. At least, until working hours, she does her magic wife shit. And I don't know how she does it. She just get everything done at the end of the day. Probably squeeze in _some_ when we're at it.

"Yeah," she smiled. Lately it doesn't reach her eyes. I know she thought I don't notice but I do. It was raining alright, and she guarded herself with the cold.

I took off my blazer, and hanged it between her shoulders. "Thanks," she murmured. I reached out to hold her hand—those were the first things that get cold to her whenever the temperature drops.

She swatted my hands away.

"S-sorry." She murmured, unapologetic yet reluctant. "It took me by surprise, you see." Was her excuse. I reach her hand again to provide warmth but she raised it to hail a cab.

The runt beat me to it.

"Survey Corp. please." We climbed up the cramped cab, her hand still not entwined with mine, even during the rest of the trip.

***


	3. Happy Independence Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat’s out of his nutbag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if the spacing is messed up—I can’t see shit if it’s too tight that’s why it’s difficult to edit and look at errors if something’s amiss. It’s also not something fixable with glasses so yeah, bear with me, pleaaase.

* * *

"Ahh!"

"Ahh!"

"L-Levi!"

Her teeth sank to my skin, her body bounced up and down as I feel her pussy milk my cock one, two three, _four, five_ times in the past few hours. She cried for me to be gentle. 

"You're not my wife, so shut up and take it.”

"I sure please you like I am." She retorted back. The damn woman. I felt her cling closer, her sweat coated her breasts, supposing I would stop barraging her damaged pussy if she closes the gap. "I said stop—uhm!" I put a plushie in her mouth to make her stop screeching.

* * *

Half- decent, I tried for the last fucking time, to remove her smell.

"When's the wedding?" I asked,

"In a few months. I'll call you if I get the blues."

"This'll be the last, Petra. We can't keep on doing this anymore."

"I'll come clean to F/N if this goes." Of course that will be the threat.

"I plan on telling her, so don't bother. Besides," my cravat at least, is spotless. "I'll tell Oluo if you tell her."

"You wouldn't dare, Levi." 

"So let's stop this." 8:39 PM.

She's probably eating dinner now.

* * *

_Husband: I'm coming home. Got us niblets for tea. Wait up for me._

You pondered about the text. He finished up early with Petra today, probably his sack ran out of something to spew. The brisket and steamed vegetables will not be wasted tonight, at least one thing to be grateful about.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

It was your third glass of wine now.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The door beeped, followed by couple of footsteps, and the rustling of plastic bag.

"I'm home." Levi approached you, ready to lean in a kiss. You need to think, _fast_. To get him not to kiss you. Because really, it disturbs you that after a tongue bath from Petra, you're next to scrub in. Bask on it, lather yourself with every nook and cranny his mouth Petra has touched.

Maybe it just isn't Petra's lips that his tongue tasted.

The thought made you sick.

You distracted yourself with the plastic he comes with. "You brought sweetened tofu?" You asked, now giving you the rest of what occupied his hands. You still pretended to be interested with the tofu in the plastic bag, dismounting it from the suffocating bag and stirring the route that covered more distance from him. Taking your time to put the item in the fridge, he leaned over and rested his chin in your head.

You could never be so disgusted, and safe all at the same time.

"You've been awfully cold these past few weeks." He whispered behind you.

"You're imagining things." You manage to mumble as your breathing had gone shallow, your shoulders tensed and you lips sealed in a tight line. And again, for the love of Paradis, you can't breathe. It alarmed you that tears are threatening to fall—worried that his fingers might catch the warmth of them.

"I know my wife when she's into something." He mumbled in your ear. "I know when she's keeping something from me." He forced you to face him; his figure looming a little, and of course.

He will not miss the watering of your eyes as you try to avert his gaze. "L-Levi, I'm fine."

Was that panic? Anger? Shock? Regret? You wouldn't know. More like, you would not dare to know. For a second you met his eyes—the steel ones that you observed to soften over the years, to portray emotions other than void was now full of it.

"You're not fooling me when you cry, F/N."

"It's just the time of the month. You know how that goes."

"I know your cycle. I bring the pads for you."

"You used to, Levi." You tried to escape his grip, but by the second you struggle, the more it tightens. "It's been quite sometime since you brought me one. Or massaged my back for that matter."

"That's why your crying? I didn't bring you pad?"

"Of course not," your palms now against his chest to put some distance. "I told you it's just the cycle. I'm fine." Eyes still averting his penetrating gaze, you put more force to it. Now it really looks like _you're_ avoiding him.

"Did I do something wrong?" His voice pleaded, his grip now loosening, he lets you stand upright. Is this mockery? Did he think everything's gonna be fine if you found out that you know he's sharing himself to another? That he broke his vows? That you'll spout the same old 'it's okay, I love you too' bullshit? Your heart seemed to stop beating a long time ago.

His fingers wrapping your chin as his eyes trying to meet yours. He sounded soothing, and you almost don't remember the years that he didn't. You've always liked that, that he only take that tone when he's with you.

And now you wonder if Petra listens to it too.

"Coron, Palawan. With Erwin, uncle Pyxis. Isabel and Furlan seems to like Petra too."

You know in his eyes the world shattered and crashed. Him at the bottom, and you at the top. But didn't really feel like winning.

Rage surged through your muscles, yelling every inch of you to curse him, shout at him, kick him— but it took all your will to shush them at bay. It's not in your nature to be violent; your mother attests to that. And you could almost not believe how her discipline indoctrinated you deep in your skull. If you hit him, you'll be giving it to him easy. Your mother always told you before: _the most painful cuts aren't inflicted by knives and fists._

"You were a difficult man to love Levi, and the most worth it at that." You said softly, almost like a whisper. He looks at you, but his focus seemed to be only at your words. You smiled, a pained one at that. Tears swelling down your eyes, meeting his lost gaze, but never did you let it run down your cheeks. For weeks, you've debated how to break it to him, and not once was a sentence enough to spill the dam of rage and betrayal flowing in your veins.

What lacked in words should be followed with actions.

"I love you Levi, but I have more self respect than you and my height combined." You caressed his cheek, something that he only noticed until it was there. He flinched, caught your wrist. "Please," panic in his voice you were long estranged of. "Don't go. I already ended things with her and I'm about to tell you tonight, so please," he gulped, his voice, far from smooth and suavé.

"Please." You barely caught the words, and yet it rang loudly to your ears. "Don't fucking go."

"I've already packed my bags Lev, I'll be leaving you now." You kissed his cheek.

"Happy Anniversary."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the scenes in this fanfiction actually took place. Whether it's mine or a friend's. It was difficult reliving the things you want to forget, but damn, I love the burning rage brought by angst. 
> 
> The feelings I want to portray barely scratched the surface; I want to delve deeper over this. 
> 
> Reader-chan, I hope you felt that burning sensation in your chest while reading this! Tis an honor to impart something to you, no matter how strong the feelings may be.


	4. Crawling for Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years had passed since you kissed his cheek good bye. How are you doing nowadays?

* * *

"M-Ma'am, these shows the graphs of this month's sale for xxx brand." The projector transitioned to colorful pies, with legends beside it. "Other legends are the cost of production, including advertisement."

Yeager concluded.

"Erwin'll berate me if this goes on," you sighed, closing your eyes as it resigned to exhaustion. "Eren, can you show me the last 6 months in a graph? I'd like to compare." and he did.

Oh yes, the former team assigned to this impossible project really did his ass whooped.

"Team, we will turn this situation around. The last 2 months and xxx wasn't even getting the quota for production cost. If this goes on, 2 large factories will have to close, workers will have to be laid off, and we'll probably be jobless or in for a promotion if we piece this through." You inhaled air.

"That much is pressure, and that much is at stake. But we are capable to turn things around, aren't we?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"We have done this before we can do this again, right?"

"We'll dedicate our hearts to this project!"

"Eren, you're too loud." You earned a motivated apology from the passionate brunette. Deafening laughter painted the whole room gay.

"I'm sorry ma'am!" Ymir and Historia were almost running in the hallways, something you greatly discouraged since you took over Survey Corp.'s 12th branch. You chuckled at the memory of roughly 4 years ago.

You mean, who barges in your boss's office and _threat_ a transfer to the furthest branch of the company?

_"This is not a fair bargain, and I can tell you're losing in." Erwin satisfied himself that half of his ass sit comfortably in his table._

_"It's hardly a bargain when I have leverage, Erwin."_

_"That's what exactly is a bargain. And you're giving it cheap."_

_"I know you know what Levi is up to these days." He stiffened up. "And I know Marie doesn't." You continued on, mocking the expression he now wears on his face. "If I told her you spent sometime in Coron with a pretty blonde bombshell, what do you think will happen?"_

_"You don't have evidence on that."_

_You fished your phone, showed him his drunk, pathetic alter ego as his hand snaked in the bombshell's olive skin. You swiped further and further until he can't look composed anymore._

_Certainly not so Erwin-ish golden boy now are we?_

_"Not because your marriage is wrecked, doesn't mean you should destroy ours too."_

_"Erwin, the moment you decide to do it, is the moment you betray your wife, your kids and whatever fucked up marriage you're trying to patch with band-aids of sorrys and come backs and pleases." You slammed the transfer papers in his chest, your eyes not leaving his. You hiss. "I'm offering you another band-aid to soothe your stroked up slut-cock from getting chopped over Marie's fingers."_

_He reached for his pen, and attached his signature over the line of his name._

_"Tell him I've resigned when he asks." You snatched the papers from his hand._

* * *

Kuchel—you've named her after his kind mother, ran in circles until she exhausted herself silly. It's not the first time you've brought her in the office and it certainly isn't the last time you've seen your team goof around at the sight of her. True, she looks magnificent with her dark hair and small face, her eyes from yours and the nose, lips and chin from the only man you've been bare with.

Until now, he held your heart and until now, you've never been able to take it back.

"Ma!" She smacked her lips. Her knees seemed to give up from exhaution, her balance unsteady, she crashed into your leg. You knelt down, and sat to level your eyes to her, and you see it: her blushing smile that plumped her cheekbones.

"Darling, did you stick some candy in Mr. Eren's trousers?" You cooed, smile never fading your eyes. These little moments were what made your life these days. These moments were enough to fill you in with warmth and energy to go through.

There's just nothing you wouldn't do for your little bundle of happiness.

"Da!" Was the response. So she did.

"What do we say if you've done something wrong?"

Kuchel stood, and bowed. Murmuring between incoherent words and 'I'm sorry, it will not happen again.'. Eren knew the drill. He too, bowed, and said that it was not a bother.

The day ended with laughter.

* * *

"Ma'am?" A soft knock at the door dispersed her thoughts; tired Kuchel was sleeping in your arms. "The annual gala invite arrived, ma'am." Mikasa handed you gold and creme with swirls of traitorous black envelope. You really have no time in going to these parties anymore. It's appealing, yes. But spending the night with Kuchel appeals to you more.

And maybe, at the back of your head, you're scared of how much change you'll witness if you see him after so long.

It doesn't just scare you, it terrifies you.

What if he has a family of his own now? But you did not get a divorce. Is he still up whoring his ways through the night? Is he eating well? Is he sleeping?

Does he think about you?

"Mikasa, you think, you can go in my stead? I'll free up your schedule that day, and you can bring a date." Rush of pink tinted her features, all knowing that she already has someone in mind. "I'll also provide the attire expenses and the travel so you can stay at ease."

"I'll accept the offer ma'am, thank you so much."

She left you with your thoughts in disarray.


	5. My Darling Kuchel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starts with his side of things. Then, your husband discovered your whereabouts... and he’s about to make a comeback.

* * *

The bed. 

As comfortable as it looks, I don't see the purpose of it. My toilet has more use than that piece of shit.

5:30 AM. 

_Erwin: Need you first thing in the morning. Take extra clothes. You're going somewhere._

Tch, what does the he want now? 

Usual routine: brush my teeth, long, sweet dump and shower. Get dressed and life goes on and on. It's no time to get so wimpy. 

_Bzzt_. 

"What?"

"Found her." Well, about _damn_ time. 

"Where?" 

"Shiganshina, currently working under Survey Corp." 

"Huh?"

She can't be fucking shitting with me. She can't be just under my nose and not scratch her whereabouts sooner. Been fucking looking for her for 3 years—3 _fucking_ years and she's building a nest under my nose. 

"And Sir." What.

"When do you deposit the payment?" 

* * *

"Can't you yell any more?" 

"You look like shit." Fucking masterpiece. Erwin looked like something out from my asshole. Marie probably chewed his ass raw last night. The sting from slamming the faxed docx lasted as fast as the thud in his desk. 

"Thank you for the warm words." 

"Should I break your bones, Erwin? Maybe break it enough it'll hurt to go to the toilet for a while." 

"Do you have your clothes with you?" 

"I'm still hung up with the idea of breaking you." 

"Levi—" 

"Didn't I tell you to tell me if you know something about her?" 

"Yes, so—" 

"Then it shouldn't take too long when you're receiving all her damn monthly reports, would it not?" 

"You're right. I did not tell you right away. My hands were tied, Levi."

"Is that How Marie likes it these days?"

"F/N had some dirt on me. The one when we were in Coron." 

And look at the blondie straddle. F/N sure had something going in for her. Paraded his ass hair for Marie to braid all night. Of course I'm right; Marie Kondoed his ass. One night in Coron, turned out to be his hell floor 4 years later. 

Never gonna do that again. 

"Levi." What? 

"Bring in marshmallows with you." 

* * *

"That concludes our Recommendation!" Armin concluded, a methodical approach you noticed, and easy to execute at that. It was almost too fluid, and glaringly illegal but legal nonetheless. 

"Armin, let me get this straight," Kuchel played with your pen, scribbling in her cutesy sketch pad you brought for her. "You want to either, make our shampoo too expensive and a limited edition. If it doesn't work, we'll settle with sachets or bottlets and transport half the workers to another factory, yes?" 

"I know it's a gamble ma'am but we can try. I think Erwin would be enamored by the idea." 

Indeed, Erwin will like it. The man loves gambling. 

"But the 2nd factory?" 

"We propose to sell them to farmers we will contract for the production of xxx crop." 

"That's actually not a bad idea..." You pondered chewing at your lip. Now Kuchel was tugging your hair you grew out after giving birth to her. You've tried the shampoo; it was immaculate. The scents, come with pomegranate and oak moss. It sticks around over the whole house after using it. Moreover, it lasts longer than the old formula. It sure is unusual but it do stands out over the rest of the saturated market. The formula carries away excess oil effectively in just one wash. 

Cruelty free too. A bonus perk. 

"They get the land, we get crop production and installment and they get paid." The habit of chewing the pencil dates back years prior going back to you. Kuchel had your highlighter now. 

"The current fair market of the land is about xxx, exclusive of the factory of course." 

"But Armin?" Kuchel drew something in your face. Eren took the highlighter away from her. "What would happen to half of the workers? They'll just get laid off? We could hire them in alternate, what do you think?" 

"That's quite a stretch to the cost... I think." Armin rebutted. 

You pondered deep. Termination due to redundancy is not out of the question, it's legal, but too cruel for the workers. You can't just cut them off because you can't do it anymore—

_Are we still speaking about work here?_

_**Snap out of it!** _

The monster caged up whispered to you. 

"We can terminate them too, ma'am—" 

"That's out of the question Armin." 

"We can transfer them to other branch, if they want to. Convincing Erwin is the difficult part." The quick thinking Armin blurted out. And that kind of made sense. It was a series of net we've woven along, to protect the workers that might receive the fall out, if it happens. 

You have to believe it will not happen. 

* * *

"Kuchel, stop tugging Armin's hair!" A fistful tangled in her toy-sized fingers, Kuchel did not let go. She mumbled his hair was so soft. You could only apologize to the blonde still attempting to scoot over in attempt to get out of the tangled mess. It was break time in the office; a month's worth of work already finished. Damn, your predecessor procrastinated. It was a good distraction—kept the whispers of the past away from getting under your skin. 

Kept them at bay.

Kept them from missing that one person that still means a lot to you. 

And certainly you're not expecting him in the _door_. 

"Maa!" She penguin-run. Kuchel grappled at the hem of your skirt. Startled at the sudden touch, your knees almost gave out by the sudden bend to pick your daughter up. Your face still with Kuchel's masterpiece, the last thing you're expecting to do was to get flustered at your unkempt—and if you should put it in a professional sense—appearance. Aside from Kuchel's materpiece, nothing seemed amiss. You suddenly got conscious of the probable wrinkle in your blazer, or a tangle in your hair. 

Cookie crumble in your skirt's hem, probably? You hope not. 

But why would you care? You have nothing to do with the man already! You don't leech off his money and never have you imagined you'll do it soon or ever. To you, financial stability means independence. And independence gives dignity. You promised to never give him the time of the day. Never will you ever again—you promised after the strenuous pregnancy you had to go through alone—to never get yourself entangle with him anymore.

And never did you expect him to appear in your doorstep. Kuchel even being here. 

You tightly heaved Kuchel in your arms, as if Levi will take her away soon.

"Eren, all of you, you can go home now." You shifted your attention to your team. You hoped you're able to maintain the air of professionalism, but who are you trying to fool exactly? "We'll continue this tomorrow. Thank you for the hard work!" Your smile isn't fooling anyone. You know that. You've been high and low with your team years ago. It might not look professional to others—certainly not to Erwin, but you've formed relationships with these people. They know what hell you've been through, and the things you did to get out from it. Hell, you can't even say that you got out.

And you're not sure if you want to because once again, your eyes are caged with his penetrating steel ones. 

Tick.

Tock. 

Tick.

Tock. 

5:15 PM. 

Silence engulfed both of you. 

"Maa!" You flinch at the sudden call, Kuchel smacking her lips as she tugged at your shirt. Breathing, once a taken for granted mechanism, was suddenly one of the most difficult things to do. 

And for the love of god, you needed it right now. 

"Are you on official business?" What a humorous thing to start up a conversation. Your heaved Kuchel tighter, hoping to transfer the unneeded nervous energy you prayed to not dawn in your voice. He still wasn't saying anything yet, and it kills you by the second for him to say something—anything to lift the suffocating spell he bound you in the moment he walked into that door. 

"You sure fucked me up looking for you, runt." There goes the endearment. His tone unamused, but nevertheless a hint of relief washed over him. "Someone knocked you up while your husband's high and low up his ass?" 

You didn't answer, but how dare him to accuse you of the very reason you left him for! "If you're here for unofficial business, I think we're done." 

"Oh no," he stride over to you. "No no _no_ **no**." He loomed over you; he looked the same afar, but now you've seen it close, you can see how much sleep deprived he had been; the lines in his eyes now there, his cheeks a little sunken. 

"Who was the guy?" His voice cold, spine-shivering cold. He never took this tone to you, at least the way you remembered it. 

"Da!" Kuchel interluded. Mocking him in all his seriousness. "Da da da!" She started pulling your hair. "Kuchel, mommy's kinda into something right now yea?" You bounced her in your arms, knowing it makes her sleepy the moment you do it. His eyes lingered over his daughter, her name giving away the revelation. He recognized the lip and the nose—heck he could even piece out together her age and the years you've left him. His eyes softened at what you thought could be the dawning, inevitable conclusion that you ran away from him pregnant at that time. And then, anger in his face registered. 

"Why didn't you tell me we were expecting—" 

"You're not in the picture anymore, Levi." 

"I'm his father, F/N." 

"Where were you then? Petra's?" 

"We're over since the day you left!—" 

"No shouting in front of Kuchel." You growled, his antics stopped right away. 

"I told you, I've ended it with her and I was about to tell you that night." You saw him squirm at the struggle of not fitting in his colorful language. If he wanted to see Kuchel, he would be needing to refrain from being his usual potty mouth. She would not need his sentence-ender 'shitty' for crying to heavens! 

"Actually, I've never berated you about your Petra escapades before." The rage swirls in your stomach, threatening to spew like bile in your throat. "How is she? Did Oluo find out? Should I tell their in laws?" 

"She's married now F/N, let's leave it at that." 

"No, Levi. I don't think I should. No blushing _whore_ should sleep with a married man and think she could get away with it." You hissed, closing the gap between you and your husband. "I think telling them will not suffice it. Should I sleep with Oluo as well?" 

"You _wouldn't_ fucking dare." He hissed right back. 

"Language, _motherfucker_." There came your faintest whisper. You glared at him, your eyes begged to blink but didn't . "Funny how you want me all to yourself but you have no problem sticking your _dick_ over your dolled-up bitch. I'm tired just seeing you, you piece of a _nutsack_." 

"Nutsack!" Kuchel cooed. "Da! Nutsack!" 

"See? She knows your name!" Sarcasm dripped over you like mercury, your strides imitates that of a victorious lone warrior. Short one, yes. Because you know, at the back of your head, the things you've said to him, hurt you too. You miss him, yes too. But he can't have you again without doing so much as lifting a fucking mountain. Levi is still Kuchel's father; you can't deprive your child of that, but you? Your heart? 

If he still wants you, he can take you back. But it won't be easy not like the prior years being together with him. 

It's your turn to be difficult now. And if he surrenders, then that will be it. 

***


	6. Seemingly Family

* * *

_2 months_. 

2 months in and he had been too patient and _too_ consistent with every whim you cooked up in your sleeves.

Need a lift? Name the car. 

Dinner? He got it covered. 

Coffee in the morning? 2 hours drive from the main branch and expect a hot cup of coffee and milk straight to your table. 

2 months in and not a single colorful word uttered in front of Kuchel. 

And finally, 2 months, and he had been playing the dad to your daughter. Truth be told, you never demanded that he do such things. 

He goes home, and do it all over again. 

It _almost_ seemed like a family. 

Good thoughts like these are when the monster whispers his past indiscretions. You've almost put it behind you, in all those years you've been away from Levi, and yet...

Whenever he checks his phone you can't help but think that probably, he might be slipping into his old habit again. 

Maybe you're overthinking? 

He sometimes smirks looking at it, and you can't help but debate yourself to move your eyes on the screen. In the end, your pride wins. 

"Where are you going?" He looked up to you, the screen glaring in his chin. 

"Date." You said. He flinched at the single response he glared at you, and you shot right back. 

"With who?" 

"Nunya business." You responded, putting your lipstick on— quite the nonchalant tone you might add. You dressed in the earthy tones with a mix of black; Kuchel, a little grown up, rocking that simple, white dress topped with lavender coat you've brought before. She was wearing something Levi picked for her: brown shoes engraved with damascene effects. Kuchel loved it, so much to your dismay that she preferred the brown over the beige you've picked for her.

He never lost his style, your _cheater_ of a husband. 

But your husband nonetheless. 

"Oi, runt, you have the nerve to bring in a sappy date with your husband around don't you?" 

"I wish I've said that to you long before you've thought about it." 

"I'm coming with you." Now you're just enjoying his pissy note. 

"Your phone'll get lonely." 

"I'm just looking for tea—" 

"Libido boosting kind? Petra'll be thrilled." The door closed behind him, only to be burst open again to continue the bombardment of his witty excuses. But what if he really is just looking for tea? Have you actually considered that maybe telling the truth? Maybe Petra and your lying husband's indiscretions done and forgotten? 

_His dick carved in and adjusted to Petra's liking._

The monster whispered in your ears. 

"Oi!" Oh God. _Please not again with that kind of tone_. That low, suavé raspy note he uses and something throbbed your insides. _It's been too long._

"Oi, runt." He catches up to you, following you around, he even swallowed his taller-than-height pride to seat shotgun rather than the stirring wheel. Not one more word is spoken until the three of you arrived at the themed park. 

It was chaotic; too human infested, too open, too festive and everything too much for Kuchel to handle her excitement. She jumped in glee, babbling 'rides! rides!' That turned out coherent. She kept pointing at the 'hellevator', the tallest ride, next to the roller coaster, 

"You sure Kuchel? You want to ride that thing?" you asked, giving her added layer of scarf to combat the dropping temperature. 

"Yes! Pleathe! Pleathe! " Oh goodness, Levi probably pleaded like this when he was younger.

"So? Where's the a-hole you bring in as date?" He stood beside you, looking over at Kuchel, certainly minding his language in front of his daughter. "He's not suppose to be late."

"I did not say I'm coming in with somebody aside from Kuchel." You showed him 2 golden tickets. "Kids are free below 5 years old." You measure him from head to toe... you bit your lip, to hold on the remark you know would be below his height.

"Don't you dare finish that line with me, snarky runt." 

"I'm not saying anything. You can come with us... if you want." Gah, how you hope the heat creeping in your face does not come off as a blush! But to be fair, the scene unfolding at this very second felt so normal. You let out a chuckle. Almost normal. 

Almost family. 

_But he had no problem wrecking that, hadn't he?_

He bent down, attached something to Kuchel you've never seen before. 

"What did you put in her clothes?" You asked. 

"GPS. So if she got lost, we know where to find her." He gave her soya milk, something you and your daughter shared to love so much. "You want to try that first, brat?" He squeezed her cheek, his eyes softening at the bubbly, squishy cheeks of his daughter as he looked at the hellevator. You could see it. If you can get past the monster always bombarding you with thoughts of doubt, you see a normal family with him. 

_Forgive him and he'll think your easy—_

_Fuck off, voice._

* * *

Kuchel nodded her head in exhaustion; her eye lids batted heavily as she struggle to stay awake. You let your husband carry her for you. Your hands busy putting her scarf to cover her head; a precaution so she doesn't catch a cold from the crisp air of the night. 

Your gazes met, but you avert them as quickly as you could. _Coward_. 

"The brat had stamina," he started the conversation. He was still looking at her, just examining her calm, free spirited features. Kuchel, out from her dreams, animated them, slapping his father's nose in the process. 

You know how painful her slaps and pulls can be. If it wasn't for her age and height? you'll say she might have the strength of a ten year old.

"She certainly got that from you." You winked, sipping coffee, and him, tea, in a bench over a lamp post. He complained about the tea's strength this time. He always did, this cantankerous old dude. It's either the tea is not strong enough, too strong, not hot enough, too hot to drink, tastes like titan piss yada yada yada... 

It's _almost_ scenic. People still passing by, probably going home. Bold oranges and yellows with deep flicker of blues and purples mixed in; the array of colors pop more and more as the stars and satellites show their glow. Noise from the stalls, hearty chuckles here and there... 

And then there's something about the isolation in the heat of the lamp post that people seemed to not bother you. Their conversation, incoherent like buzzes to the ears. It was peaceful, even with the noise. Your eyes focused on the inside of the cup, not daring to look in his because you know, you know that whatever he says right now, might crumble your resolve. 

Friends. 

That's as much as you can give him. But the good-natured word leaves you a pang of one big, painful, hole. It was too cruel to just be friends with someone you've shared so much with. Friends can't be too bare with each other. Friends are when you go out for drinks together with other friends; fool around and laugh but there is that part of you that still stay guarded no matter how lax you've showed them you are. Friends are when you say troubles, inconvenience and small victories over group dinner. 

Certainly, friends don't give you a wedding ring and swear to you that they will cherish you all their life and all the 'too-sweet-to-be-consistent-until-death-do-us-apart' the movies tells you to be. 

Friends don't give you little fingers and toes and squishy, chubby cheeks that call you 'Ma!'. 

Friends don't wake up beside you, and kiss you and give you the warmest of hugs while you allow yourself to be drowned intoxicated with their scent. 

Friends don't do that. 

So what are you then? 

"You would know." He retorted, playful in his tone. Crumpling his paper cup, you glanced at the smirk planted in his small, thin lips. 

"Petra will know." You regretted the direction of your response. You now have the courage to meet his eyes, now once a stoic glare, then softened in remorse. His lips thinning by the second. You mentally slapped yourself for ruining a good mood. 

"F/N," He started, almost stripping you of your guard. "I did not meet any woman after you left. Erwin can attest to that." 

"Erwin can also attest to your vacation in Palawan, Levi." 

"I," he caged your gaze, yet his eyelash batted uncharacteristically from his usual smooth demeanor. Connected or not, his reluctant gaze was too deep for you to escape. 

"For all it's worth... I'm sorry and I- I keep telling you t-this but—stop _laughing_ runt—I-I've never been w-with any other woman a-after you left— I said stop _fucking_ laughing, _**shameless**_ runt."

"Levi," you called, it was the first time you intended to show him chuckles. Well-taken you might even add. Different color of lights accentuate the tiny, tiny bit of heat creeping his cheeks—one that you almost missed. The glow of the lamp post highlight the silk of his hair. The air somehow feels lighter...

"Language." And for the first time, you truly felt at ease.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read this Fanfic of Desert Rose titled This Doesn't Usually Happen and then there's bashful Levi and I kind of borrowed the idea. 
> 
> Check her work and you won't regret it. ^^


	7. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Quite a long chapter. Longer than Levi's but definitely not comparable to Erwin's... height and other things measurable

* * *

Levi dropped you off to your house; Kuchel still asleep, clinging to him for warmth in his arms. Levi already grew on Kuchel, but there were times when she gets a little witty; borderline uppity in her remarks. The team in the office bets on them, a lunch for Kuchel, a coffee for Levi, and so far, Kuchel is winning... or at least Levi lets her. But he doesn't need to know about the bet. They know that Levi can be scary. You could only smile at the memory. 

You went home a little later than anticipated, primarily because Levi accidentally woke Kuchel up when you insisted he did not need to accompany you and play chaperone in the grocery store. 

Maybe it was you who insisted too much... but anyways.

Few items for a hearty minestrone and fruits to dig in after, seeing him carry his daughter obligated you to grab the calmest, most serene tea you have in your cupboard. No, it's not black tea, and it's not chamomile.

Sencha sakura. The ambiance of spring in the dire end of autumn. 

He took a seat in the kitchen, Kuchel asleep in her room as he took the liberty to tuck her in. Telling you he already took off her shoes and socks, and that there is nothing to worry about, you satisfied yourself in the knowledge of how ridiculously meticulous your husband is. 

_Husband_ rolls perfectly in your head. 

"I better get going too." He announced after a few minutes of observing you move in the kitchen. Initially, you thought it might make both of you uncomfortable, but the silence between you and him was not something you want to fill in with the television noise or polite chatter. It's just so... natural that he's there. 

Eyeing your every move. 

The sway of your hips. 

The length of your arms. 

His legs crossed. 

His palm rested in his cheek. 

The whistle of the kettle. 

The thud of the cups. 

"W-why don't you stay for dinner?" You stutter awkwardly, in contrast to the serenity of your kitchen tonight. 

"I don't want to impose." 

"It's really no big d-deal." _Stutter_. "I think Kuchel's expecting you to be here when she wakes up." _Using the kid as an excuse—lameee._ "Unless you have somewhere to go, then that's fine—"

"What's for dinner anyway?" 

* * *

"Maa... cank get this off, soo _shitty_." You gawked at the cutesy cuss language uttered by your just-awaken daughter. For sure, no one in the office taught her that, and it certainly isn't you— that potty mouth, walking highlighter of a husband! He was already smirking...this tiny old man! 

That potty mouth, walking highlighter of a _cheating_ husband!—- you corrected yourself. 

"Kuchel," you removed the GPS in her dress, almost shoving it to Levi in annoyance. Cooing, you told your daughter to come for a second. You led her to the living room, hopefully out of Levi's earshot but who are you kidding; hidden are your expressions behind the back rest of the sofa. "What did I say about saying words?" 

"A closed mouth catches no flies." She recited from memory. 

"Should you say S-H-I-T-T-Y then?" You spelled out. 

"Kuchel, your mother meant **Shitty**." Levi dared to interrupt. _Why didn't I let him go home?!_ You pondered, almost rolling your eyes as he pushes your buttons. 

"Shitty." Your daughter articulated all knowingly. Your eyebrows up, mouth a little agape. "Dada's shitty." 

You could imagine the amusement in Levi's face. 

"Kuchel Ackermann!" You tried to be strict in your tone, hoping that amusement does not seep right through. "It's one thing you cuss, and it's another thing to be rude to your Dada. You've done both."

She looked at her feet, remorse overtaking your chest and thinking if you might've been too strict at reprimanding your daughter. Her cheeks puffed, her tiny nose a little red and tears are threatening to fall down her squishy cheeks. 

"What will you do little girl?" You tried to be softer, her pout more prominent by the minute. She raised her tiny arms and reached over your neck. 

"Mama am sowwy." In between her sobs. "Don' want mama to stay angy." Oh well fuck. She's too cute for her own good. She lets go after a few heartbeats, her little feet patter at the cold, wooden floor. 

Kuchel tugged at her father's trousers, his eyes wide in shock as if he also forgot he could move. You knew she wormed her way to her father's skin, her quirks and cuteness softening his cold, rigid gangsty exterior. His iris darted to his daughter, eyebrows flinching in each tug her little fingers do. A sigh escaped his mouth. Of course he couldn't resist her cute, pouty, tear-stained chubby cheeks. 

"Sowwy too dada." 

"Tch." 

"Don't be angy Kuchel." 

"I'm not, brat." 

"You're blushing Lev." You teased, leaning at a wall. Of course he wasn't. But the shock painted in his face was far more precious than your family heirloom. 

"This brat's probably hungry," he turned his attention to his daughter, "aren't you?" Grabbing her by the head. She answered with a hug, but it turned more of grappling his leg.

Your heart melts faster than butter. 

* * *

Dinner was light hearted. Kuchel was the superstar, she babbled her time at the dinner table, and Levi patiently, earnestly listened and responded to her weird, but sensical observations of the world around her. He was surprised to know more than he wants to let you that you've raised your daughter well and smart. She was articulate enough to spout simple approach of the tiny problems her father throw at her, and it shows his amusement. Heck, she also catapulted loopholes at the questions her father threw at her. You, on the other hand, took your time observing over the spoon in your lips, as serving of the soup almost forgotten over the heat of their conversation. 

* * *

"I should go, it's getting late." Levi said, after cleaning up the dishes. He prefers that over cooking anyways. 

"Dada, d'you have to go?" Kuchel's question alarmed the shit out of you. Dinner was okay, but sleeping under the same roof? Sure, there were times when you miss his touch **but** that's _sooo_ out of the question right now. You hope it did not show to your face, but your side glance over Kuchel's plead and you know the look gave it away. But exactly, what are you scared of? It's not like you'll allow him up in your bed. He can sleep in your daughter's room, or in the sofa, but _never_ in your bed. And most certainly never anywhere _beside_ you. 

Your eyes shot right back in the licks of the fireplace, but your ears as perked up more than anytime before.

"Maybe." An apparent flinch in your eyebrow indicated how intent you are at eavesdropping, the amusement in his voice flowed like river in a rainy day. 

"Why don't you ask your mother?" 

"Mama?" _Oh boy_. 

"Darling," you started, as earnest as your voice could imply, "He—your father has work to do. Tomorrow. Early. So..." _Oh boy, this is so awkward._ "he needs to go home, yeah?" 

"Can't he sleep here?" 

"Um, he doesn't have spare clothes here darling." 

"He can wear Kuchel dress. But not the red dress." 

"It won't fit darling." 

"He can wear mama." 

"Won't fit darling." 

"Uncle Eld's clothes?" The air suddenly changed. 

You stole a glance at Levi, a glint in his eyes apparent as shadows casted in his temples. He looked at you, a knowing glance of suspicion. You know how this looks, and you know what he is thinking. But it shouldn't really matter now does it? Eld's a colleague; a lawyer-slash-representative for the Bargaining Union of the workers in the factory. Not so much of a close friend, but enough to get along. The memory crept to you of how his shirt landed at the bottom of your drawer, by mere spikes of accident. He had an important meeting, Kuchel ruined his clothes, you've had it laundered, and weeks after he didn't visit the office, you've pretty much forgotten the incident, and so his clothing. It's not like he comes in your house. 

And now your daughter's memory terrifies you. 

"You heard your mother." Levi stood, ruffling his daughter's hair. "Be a good brat to your mother, got it?" You followed him outside. 

* * *

_Who in the fuck is Eld?_

She shivered. She loves cold weather but her body hated it. I remembered she said she looked good and cozy with turtleneck on. Her hands are the first to freeze, then her toes. And she's wearing thin tad clothing. 

So she looks like she already moved on. She doesn't need me anymore huh? 

"You should go back, it's cold." 

"Levi, Eld is a colleague. He never comes here. Never did. Kuchel spilled something with his shirt, and I sent it to laundry and since then, I forgot to give it to him." So the runt is worried I might misunderstood. 

"I'm not asking." _Let's tease her a little bit more_. She dared to laugh her ass awhile ago. 

"I-I know... it's just that, you might misunderstand." She hugged her arms, her eyes looking everywhere except mine. The cold's catching to her. She's a fucking vision. 

_And all mine. **Still** mine. _

"Don't waggle your tail over sorry piece of relics, F/N."

"You know I don't, Lev." 

"Exactly." _Let's put her to a test._ "So why waggle for mine, this time? You're always the type to look ahead." A little more. "Not the type to regret." 

_What do you want?_

"You know, It was difficult leaving you and living without you this past years I chose to go. But if I were to choose between playing the dumb and dumber you and your cock-slurping slut and the so-called friends put me back then, and right now, I would choose this all over again, exactly the same way."

"So? You're saying you would leave again?" 

"I'm saying—" 

"What? You're done with whatever this is?" 

_Tell me._

"Well, what is what exactly?" she shivered. 

"You tell me." 

"Levi, you can't just come intruding your way back and think everything's going to be alright. It was 3-4 years ago—I know it's an awful lot of time, but you wanted me to stay with you, not giving me a chance to sort things out on my own. I think I deserve the decency of time putting two and two together." 

"And how long do you plan on doing that, exactly? You said so yourself isn't it? 3, 4 years is a _shit_ ton of time to sort things on your own. Well, it seems that you have no intention of sorting things out, but just leave them there to rot." 

"Levi, it's not like I wanted to abandon you—" 

" **3\. Years.** 3 _fucking_ years and god help me—how much more months passed and you better give me a a damn satisfying answer of the flying fuck you give about whatever this is we have going on. _**Do I leave, or should I stay, F/N.**_ " 

_Still fucking mine._

* * *

" **Do I leave or should I stay, F/N.** " You shivered, and you're not sure whether it's the cold or the coldness of the demand that frightens you. Before, what lingered in your head was how much you loathe the lost of trust that they brought upon you, and the opportunity of a normal family they stripped from Kuchel. Now, it hit you. He's back, now what are you gonna do? You have not even sort out whatever it is that you have right now. Friends? Kuchel's guardians? Co-parents? Friends? 

Lovers? 

You bit your lip, desperation over your voice as silently pleading it to come back. What will you say? What should be said? How come almost 4 years had passed and you forgot to revisit these important things that matters to you? _Coward! Runaway! Chicken!_

"Well?" He pressed on. 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6

_Breathe in, breathe out._

7

8 

9

10.

_Stop postponing the inevitable, F/N._

"Stay." 

You whispered. Loud enough for him to hear that once again, he stripped you bare and vulnerable to the cold.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the story so far..
> 
> The tea served to Levi in this chapter symbolizes an era of their relationship. Do you have a guess? And also, its taste spells calm in your tongue. 
> 
> School started but rest assured that this story will be completed. Honestly, it's already done, I just keep the pacing on and edit some Notes at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> See yah!


	8. Rekindling the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay you say... what now? You answered, lost at baby steps you'll be taking from now on.

* * *

A swoosh in the trees as the cold crept in your skin. You can't bear to look at him in the eyes, but you know his had been boring a hole in your trembling figure. He took off his coat, and hanged them between your shoulders. 

"Get inside. It's getting colder." He ruffled your hair, and played the loose threads hanging in your shoulders. So what's next? Do you look at him? Do you _dare_ to look at him? Could you stop if you do so? 

You bit your lip, again. A habit long formed during uncertain or pressing times. An expression of difficulty, and sometimes, of discipline. You hold on to it, because releasing them would make them act on their own, by speaking something so premature as that telling him to spend a night inside, beside you, or just kiss him. 

Should it matter, really? You're his wife anyway. 

A _estranged_ one, the monster reminds you.

"Y-yeah, I'll do that."

"You're barely withstanding the cold because of the coat." He pinched your nose in response. 

"You should take your coat Levi! N-no need to baby me seriously!" 

"As much as I like seeing you squirm trying to _flirt_ your way in this dead ass winter, your nose's freezing, dumbass. Get inside now."

"Not flirting with you mister—but how about you?" You're about to remove his coat. "You'll freeze—" 

"Thanks to you, my _blood's fucking boiling_ right now." The remark made you gulp, his eyes travel shamelessly in your form. Your breathing heavier, your toes curled as you grazed a glance at the prominent bulge in his pants. _Oh my god, it's really been a while_. His voice was enough to make you tremble, and you mentally note to book an appointment with your fingers later tonight... or just sleep it off. 

Oh look at you, getting giddy thinking of his voice and your fingers down your _thighs_... 

"Good night F/N." You have to catch your breath just yet. Disappointment hits you, but you kept it under the façade.

"G-good night, Levi." 

* * *

"F/N." Eld held out his hand for the pleasantries, and obviously uncomfortable with your plus one companion. Eld nodded to him in recognition, and Levi, with your cup of coffee—unfaltering punctuality of your punk-ass husband— glared at him with all his height. 

You motioned for everyone to sit; Levi beside you, as you all did. The air heavier by the minute. 

"Um, F/N, do you mind? Does he have to be in here?" Eld's sweat apparent in his temples. 

"Um, he's Mr. Ackermann, Executive Financial Advisor for Survey Corp." You introduced him. 

"Oh? Brother?" Eld pressed on, a small smile in his face, light in his tone. _Stop it, this is awkward so stop it._

" _Husband_." Levi reintroduced himself. _Gah, you're on your own, I'm just here for work._ You pretended not to see Eld pursed his lips as if he realized something. 

Reopening the contents of the envelope, Some notes you scribbled as if to proofread errors and disagreements you wanted to renegotiate. Your business swag is on; the cold, calculating eyes you've worn for years now dawned clear as crystal to everyone in the room. He did not need to be here, but Levi insisted he look at the original propositions of the union, and weigh them, as Erwin tacitly instructed him. 

"Refer to Section 27, page 34." You instructed, paper shifting engulfed the room. "The corporation proposes to pay them both by cash and shares in the corporation, can't be cash alone." 

"2,000 workers, give or take, at least 300 seasonal, the majority regular and casual. If they're gonna have to get shares, do you mean all of them?" Eld asked.

"Official list in the Union says at least 1,800. We can cash out the casual and seasonal workers, but some seasonal workers fits in to regular. They've been working for years." You checked and double checked these with Armin, flipping stapled papers after papers. This will have to do well.

"Yes, so we agree that casual gets the money while regular gets the share?" 

"Hmm," you ponder, "In arrears." A sip in your coffee, a teasing smirk playing in your lips. You're enjoying this. 

"Not a chance." Eld retorted. 

"No good, Eld. We'll have to pay them in cash too, that's a bit of a stretch on our part don't you think?" 

"You'll have them use their land just the same." 

"Look, no matter how you put it, they still get the land, cash and the assurance that they get something out of it. This is basically charity Eld." You leaned to your chair, "You'll never get an offer this good." 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, for the first time taking his gaze away from you. His height intimidates you, but it shouldn't show. You almost got him. "I'll tell them about it. I'll give you a call." 

The rest of the mediation trickled down like oil in the pots of time. 

* * *

"Ma'am, how did the negotiations go?" Armin almost sprinted in your office. You held a smile. This man looked a lot like Erwin, you thought. "We should receive good news by next week, most likely." 

"So it turned out alright?" 

"It's a safety net. If the sales don't go up, that is." 

"Actually... social media has been in rage over our shampoo." Armin started. "Eren showed me that it kind of becoming a trend in the internet..." He held out a tablet, showing the tags concerning the product, and it didn't surprise you. Sasha and Connie absentmindedly informed you that Levi was the one to tell Eren and Jean to pay influencers to endorse the shampoo and create a challenge that is on hype on the beauty community these days. And as much as your ego took quite the blow that he intervened in your work, you're grateful that he did. Afterall, this is more than saving you and your team's skin. 

Heck, Mikasa, Eren and Jean's video went viral a few days ago too. 

"Mikasa, you gotta tell me your hair routine." You teased, the black-haired lady in red scarf nodded not uttering a word. _So there is a hair routine..._

* * *

Where is Erwin? Taking his long sweet dump, making me wait. 

"Levi." _Finally_.

"What? Did the shit come out?" Probably leaving a dent shaped like a toilet bowl up in your ass? 

"Your fecal jokes are marvelous as always, although not really my preference of breaking the ice." Erwin's still on dry spell huh? 

"Yo, Levi? How's F/N? You got back together?" Shitty glasses, her body odor assaulted my nose. _Tch, how disgusting_. 

"You and your bathroom should get back together shitty glasses. Aren't you shameless? Going to work without taking a fucking scrub." Tch, so unhygienic.

"So much for being a germaphobe, Levi!" 

"Stop touching me, shitty glasses! You'll transfer your filth on me." And of course she doesn't fucking listens. When did she ever.

Handed over the mediation report and the assessment of expenses both for the actual plan and the safety net. "That's the report for the negotiation in 12th Branch. Call my secretary when something needs to be clarified. I still have work to catch upon. I'll tell him you'll drop by and have them at your desk first thing in the morning." 

"Isn't that where F/N is now? I just knew that earlier sometime back." Shitty glasses out and dead late on the news. Browsing over the report, the walking dirt marveled at the docx. Tch. She's losing her touch. "My, we're quite generous on the offer aren't we? This is practically charity!" Couldn't agree more. _My_ runt sure gave Eld—or whatever his name is—a number. Generous, but exploiting. This is a new side of her. Pretty sure Armin has something to do with it. Heh. She really outdid herself this time.

Nope, not the time to fucking simp. Adore her when your done with the work. 

"As much as it looks easy in the paper, it's promising for the long term on the safety net her team had planned. The sales alone are picking up, and what the company needs to do now, is wait while it continues to stir the public's interest." I turned to Hange, "F/N tried the shampoo. She said the scent's not bad." 

"Aww! Tell her she's welcome! It was quite a feat too you know? Do you wanna know how it was made?" 

"About that Levi..."Erwin trailed off—dodging Hange's bullet. He doesn't take the tone from nothing, I know that as much. 

"I have to reassign Petra back." 

"Why does that concern me?" 

"Although she won't be your secretary again, but I assigned her to be the ad hoc team leader to orchestrate the gala months from now. You're part of the team too, if my memory serves right." 

"Yes, budget. Given how it's getting bigger and bigger every year. I have to take the strides." And I don't see why that is my problem. I'm no longer affiliated with the woman. The last time I know, she was getting married, and I know better than to dip my fingers over something so sacred. 

_Tch, Hypocrite_. 

"Then I trust that's alright with you?" 

"Why wouldn't it be?" Should I tell F/N about this? 

"Give my regards to F/N." 

"I will." Yes Erwin, I will tell her about this. No need to fuss over my marriage and start worrying about yours. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm thinking: should I put a side story about Erwin and his wife when he broke the news to her? 
> 
> Tell me what you think! Thank you so much in taking the time to read my little cook up!


	9. Tired of Your Petra Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a talk with Levi after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Long-ass chapter. Very opposite of Levi's height. Lemon meringue pie is served in this chapter. You've been warned. ;)

* * *

Booking for a tux fitting is almost no fuss. Booking for an evening gown, _however_... you could only sigh at the memory. The exhaustion coming back just remembering the brutal canvassing and waiting time you've given more than you should. If it was you, you'll probably book on the first shop available and look something appropriate from there. But not this time. 

You mean, Mikasa looks amazing, alright? And that much is a chore because you know that if the dress's too plain, she'll stand as a wallflower, and too extravagant she'll be a chandelier... 

She said anything's fine. But you kind of overheard from Sasha that Jean is moping around because he kind of heard from Connie that Armin said that Eren cooked a surprise for Mikasa in the gala. 

In short, Mikasa needs to look divine. 

You know how long their office romance dates back, and that the office romance is actually office rivalry. You personally think Jean would do well for Sasha, given how uppity he could get, it would be nice to settle with a girl of humility. 

And Jean is quite the cook. Like her ex, Niccolo. 

Sasha on the other hand, is quite the glutton. 

See? Perfect. 

Mikasa is to Eren—you felt a little giddy that it's happening. 

And you found out Armin has a distinct taste for small blondes with high noses. Ymir's gone overprotective to Historia over this matter. 

Not that it mattered to Armin though. 

"Ugh, Kuchel, everyone's having the time of their lives..." you cooed to your daughter, a little playtime after a day's work worth a month. "But I have you so mommy's quite happy too, you know?" You've noticed recently that you've lost quite the weight, and gained some more muscles, result from the packed schedule you've honed, subtracted and added for years. 

"Ma'am, you were looking for me?" You turned your attention to the pretty lady, beaming as you found yourself quite excited to talk about girl-stuff. It's been years since you let this side of you freely flow, tightly guarded by necessity of difficulties raising a child alone. Now that Kuchel is a little more independent, you've let this part of you that begged to come out from the closet you've locked it on. 

You used to talk about this with Petra. 

You shut the thoughts of worrying about her faster than the monster tempts you to loathe every strand of existence she has left in your memory. 

You scoot over, letting her have some space to sit. "These are the dresses I think will suit you." You let her scroll over the monitor, her eyes glowing like the dress she'll be in in the next couple of months. "Please, take a look. Tell me if you liked something." 

"But ma'am, these are so expensive..." 

"Mikasa, it's the biggest gala every year, and it's getting bigger. We'll have to go all out." Your motherly tone coming out for your subordinate. Then followed the excitement remembering the gossip buzzing around awhile back. Kuchel was pointing at a dress, a red dress in mermaid cut. 

"You think I'll suit well in red, Kuchel?" 

"Yes." She nodded, her small voice squeaked. 

"I guess that's settled." She smiled, "Ma'am can I take the red dress?" Blushing, Mikasa looked hopeful, her long eyelashes softly batted as she bashfully met your eyes. 

"I think it'll compliment your hair and your skin, and it's the same color as your scarf. But you don't need to choose it now, I'll book an appointment to the shop." You smiled, poking the thick fabric she worn tirelessly no matter the weather. She gave you series of heartfelt bows of gratitude thereafter. 

* * *

Cooking dinner is a form of therapy for you. A yoga for your hands, or a distraction from thoughts lingering from awhile back. 

How is the coochie tramp doing today? 

Is she happy and satified with Oluo's rooster? 

Does she miss your husband's fuckery? 

Is she doing well? 

You deny to dignify the emotions with a name, but acknowledge that a heavy portion of it, still hated what she _did_ —hated how much she tells you off to lay down on carbs; hated when she encourages you not to get pregnant as it'll ruin your career and figure then sit in your husband's cock like a throne that she rightfully owns. 

And hated how she put you to your right mind at times you almost forgot your worth. 

The worst part is not because she was a dear friend to you but because she never hesitated to burn bridges with you even when she knew that it'll hurt you and a part of you screamed that she still mattered. It's like, intentional. Calculating. Dedicated to ruin you ruthlessly. 

And you can't help but reminisce that long ago, she was good to you. Or at least, she appeared to be. 

And fuck, the word hurt was an understatement. It almost pulverized you. 

"Is dada coming today?" Kuchel asked, Levi's presence grew on her as a given. Her attention released from the escape room game her mind was busy a few seconds ago. 

"I don't know, darling. But you'll eat your fair share of vegetables today, yes?" 

"No." she shook her head. Oh boy, here we go again. 

"But dada said you have to be a good girl, did he not?" 

"No, dada said Kuchel be a good brat." 

"Same thing." 

"No." 

"Yes." Ah, the man of the hour. 

"Dada!" Kuchel scurried off, earning an 'oomph!' in the bridge of her nose. Levi ruffled her hair, thereafter massaging the part that bumped in his leg. 

"That hurt?" Kuchel responded with an 'mmm' while nodding her head. 

"That bad?" 

"No." 

"Good girl." 

"Good brat!" 

"Good _brat_." He stand corrected. He turned to you, eyes serious, urgency in them guarded but leaking on the sides. "Oi, runt." Said, his eyes fixed on your own, "I'll stick around after dinner. I have to tell you something." 

Alarm infested your eyes but said nothing else. What do you suppose he's going to say? Will he leave? But it was an _understanding_ now that you wanted him to stay with you and Kuchel's life until you figured out whatever you have now and things that you have not yet sorted out. Things like this somehow terrified you—he knew that, and at least spared some mercy giving you a headstart. You gulped. 

"Why not now?" That's all the bravery you've mustered for a few moments. 

"When the brat's asleep, we'll talk." 

Kuchel looked at her father at the cue of her name.

* * *

Soon he lulled Kuchel asleep after dinner; she begged him to play the "big jug string" we know as guitar today and as much as he hesitated, he fingerpicked a progression soothing for her. 

"Sing! Sing dada!" 

"Sorry brat, I don't sing." 

Kuchel demanding him for the longest time to sing for her and him patiently refused was something out of the movies. The impending, dreadful confrontation nears as your thought races in the veins of your temples. Pleads exhausted your daughter until the music heightened her tiredness and nodded herself to sleep. 

Oh no, the talk is happening. 

He'll break up with me soon. _But there 's nothing to break up, what are you talking about? The 'thing' whatever you call— it's long gone now. Silly, silly girl._

_Remember it was you who insisted that he stayed with you stupid. The answer came out from **your** mouth. _

**He. Never. Promised. Anything.**

It dawned to you, that the voice inside your head was right. As painful as it sounds, it's right. He'll say he likes to stay with Petra now. Did he not before? That's why he did what he did. 

Or maybe he found some other now.

Someone not you. 

_See? The magic was short lived. So so naïve. You didn't change, see?_

The monster beat up the hope swelling for months in your chest. And now, _now_ you risk yourself off this talk or whatever this is he wanted to end. He stride in the living room, the fireplace enough to kill some coldness in your now sweaty palms. 

"I have to work with Petra for the gala this year." 

_See? What did I tell you. Getting all giddy thinking he might still 'love' you, you naïve little girl playing grown up. Whatever you had ended years ago and he just want custody over Kuchel now, that's why he sticks around._

You knew exactly the word to describe what you feel and never once in your life did it hurt to name it: You feel disappointed. Ashamed. and again, for the second fucking time. 

You felt betrayed. 

_It's happening again. **hUehuEhueHuE**. _

The monster mocked you and your choices which accumulated for the past few months. It was stupid of you to let him in. 

"I see. But you don't need to get my permission."

_Told you._ The monster's word rang in your ears. 

_They did it before, nothing stops them from doing it again._

"I'm not getting your damn permission, runt, but I think you need to know." 

"Look, Levi," You braved it out. "If you're sticking around because of Kuchel, you can see her anytime. But don't rub salt in my wound." _Go stick out what's been hurting_. "You don't concern yourself of decorum, so if you want to see her, you don't need to be polite or make things light between us. That's not your forte anyway." _There, done_. _The talk should be over. You told him off, you guarded your heart. You saved yourself._

_Oh no, no no. No._

He held your hand, pulling you closer to him. His focus solely on your averting gaze. You flinched, your muscles resisting, commanding you to not allow him any closer. You squirmed, fight for a space between you and his warmth... and in the end, he settled with just holding your hand, caressing it until you settled in the idea that he is not going to force himself nearer than you allow him to. 

"I'm telling you because the last time I missed my chance, you ran away. Not gonna let you do that again because you're a _fucking_ headache to find." You still can't look at his eyes, but the realization differs now and it was not because of defeat that he is leaving you, for good, but because he _might_ be scared that you might ran away again from him? 

Are you hearing this right? 

"Do you understand?" You heard him whisper, earnest, heartfelt. _Loving_. His fingers gently pulling a handful of your hair to make you meet his gaze. His fingertips in your scalp, his breath in your cheek. The gentle yank earned a gasp from you. You tried to glare at him, biting your lip, trying to shoo that delicious adventure lingering between you. Divert it to something platonic. Would it be okay? Should you give in? 

He won't be breaking any promises anymore, would he? 

"L-Levi." Your voice trembled, your toes curled knowing that you won't escape his scrutiny anytime soon. His other hand grabbed your waist, gently kneading your curves. His exhales have become deeper, nasal, angry... _hungry_. 

The flesh between your thighs tensed, your lower abdomen felt the delicious spasm that presents itself when your husband and your husband _alone_ encourages it. 

"Damn it woman..." he growled, pulling you closer. You let him, not intending to let out a moan, unable to contain the pleasure dripping from you. You felt him hard and ready pressed in your stomach, as you bask in the pride that you made him like _this_. 

The thought made you breathless. 

"Easy now," you composed yourself, purring to him, "we don't want to wake our daughter up, do we?" 

Later he lets you go, your hair tangled. "I can't force you to believe me when I say we'll only be working as colleagues," he let out a long sigh, _so the tension worn him down too_. The thought recorded and saved in your memory, your pride soared higher knowing that after all this time, you still have the same effect on him. And damn it all to heavens if you don't admit to yourself that he does the same to you. 

It's too transparent; the tension of want swelling over the both of you. 

"So just sit your ass down and watch me prove it to you." 

"Change my mind then because last time I checked, you worked together too. That obviously didn't stop both of you." Then you heard his signature _tch_ and everything went hazy.

Because his lips were entwined with yours, biting them. _Bruising_ them. 

And it hurt. His tongue danced inside your mouth like he owned it.

He pulled you closer; his fingers back at now rough yanking of your hair. He angled your neck, deepening his rough yet well taken ministration. It alarmed you that he was **angry**. It was rare to receive kisses like this from him. You had disagreements in the past, and on very few occasion did you receive kisses like this. Your fingers searched for the collar of his shirt, clumsily pushing him away but his kisses took the strength in your hands. He guided them to his buttons—a tacit order to undo them. You tango your steps to the wall. You've been careful not to produce any noise that might wake your daughter up, but he is not one to be forgiving either. And it seems like he is challenging you to try to hold on to your sanity and busy yourself not to let out your moans. 

Your voice trembled as you whisper his name against his lips when he assisted your slam in the cold, hard concrete beside the fireplace. Unclasping the hook of your brassiere, and kneading your breast against his palm, you could only close your eyes when his fingers played with your nipple... "Is this what you've done to Petra too?" You spite, your voice almost gave out as he squeeze your nipple tight. 

"Never did it in a wall so you're first." A tiny glimpse of his indiscretions revealed to you. "But you don't need to know that, do you?" Hands pushing your shirt out of the way, he licked them clean, lathering them with his tongue; teasing them with his teeth. 

You looked at him, toes curled, your eyes half closed and hazy, but not yet ready to submit to his advances. You raised your skirt, letting him see you slide your underwear to the floor, exposing yourself in the dead cold of the night. Your fingers intruded inside you, letting him watch how you do it without him this past few years. You knew how he _hated_ it, telling you how unsanitary it is, but you wanted him to see it. It was an easy feat for your finger—the slippery folds reacquainted your fingertips. The nights that you would pull this kind of stunt long forgotten, and lately it was by the memory of him and your once perfect marriage that you stimulate it by yourself. You lifted your soaked fingers; never once shying your eyes away from his, all while cleaning them off with your tongue. 

Just to screw with his head. 

" **Dirty**." He whispered in your ear while replacing your finger with his own, much to your surprise, drawing small circles too light to satisfy you, and deep enough to frustrate the fuck out of you. He stroked a little higher over the edge, tracing the arch adjacent to your bud. You let yourself groan in frustration. 

" **Little**." He inserted another, his pumping strokes wide, fluid and unceasing, feeling your folds soaked by his touch. He grabbed your wrist to prevent you from covering your moans and noisy, heavy breathing, his lips momentarily leaving your ears and revisiting your other unattended breast...

"Levi..." 

" **Runt**." He inserted another, his eyes seemingly committing your expression of ecstasy and surrender in memory, you gasped at the delectable tension in your lower stomach. You felt yourself stretch while you milk his fingers. You whimper, your lips clasped together to prevent the unsolicited moans from coming out. 

He was giving you a look you recognize from years back, and again, it slipped, that probably, Petra saw it too.

***


	10. Drowning at Work, Drowning in You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author checking in: Levi is a difficult person to write. I consulted the experts *cough* tumblr headcanons *cough* to look for insights; get me inspired and giddy to write but I ended up stalking my big daddy Erwin instead. Heeeelp. I'm groveling that closet readers would not whip my ass for writing a horrible Levi POV. Just stretching his monologue drains my coffee cup in matter of minutes. Twice.
> 
> So so sorry! ( /_ \\) 

* * *

How many times do I have to prove to her that I am not going to revert back to the scumbag that I was? 

I check my phone— the automated response is that it's Petra. Did it ever occur to her that I might be looking at r/cursedimages? Tea memes? 

I was talking about tea and some- _fucking_ -how, Petra managed to creep in like a persistent diarrhea. 

Petra when I'm washing our dishes.

Petra when we're out in the park.

Petra when I try to give her morning coffee in the office. 

Petra here, Petra there, Petra _fucking_ everywhere. 

I have no excuse for what I've done. I admit, I was wrong to let it happen, and damn wrong to let it drag for too long. I am sorry that I did it. It doesn't sell to me that she should've stayed ignorant about my affair, nor she broke it to me faster than I should've to her. I didn't love Petra. I don't even remember why I did it or most of the things we did.

How much longer do I have to suck up to get to her good side? Good side is _enough_. It would take me the remainder of my life to make it up to her and I'm prepared to do that the moment she said she'll be leaving me that night. I could die trying, I know that much. Thinking about it now— _damn, the tea they serve here tastes like titan piss, not coming back there again urgh_ — I didn't lose her trust.

She lost something graver: she lost her ability to trust love when it's offered to her. 

Given that, it's not a guarantee that she'll let me in. All I have to do is assure her over and over until she forgets. 

Damn, the things the runt makes me think. And I did not pay to sip in boiled sweat in fancy paper cup for fuck's sake. 

3-4 years back, she was more carefree. Untainted. Too sacred. Too pure. I don't think I'll be ready for a woman of the finest caliber. Fucking coward, I was. Probably why I looked for someone I'm not scared of breaking, or hurting for any matter. 

Dick move the dimwitted me back then. 

Now, she lost some weight, drowns at work _—damn it Erwin and his bushy eyebrows_ —and practically her only rest was Kuchel and sleep. 

I haven't seen her in a while...

She doesn't even paint now or read her cheesy-ass novels as I read mine in a corner like we used to.

And if she wasn't so adamant in her Petra pepburns, I wouldn't be so angry and so fucking torqued to just kiss the crap out of her. 

Now get to fucking work, simp. You're on suit today, not a fucking gag strap. 

* * *

When was the last time you actually took a decent meal and not Kuchel's leftovers? You can't remember. But what you remember is you have work to do. _Lots_ of it. 

_Cough_. 

The team already gone home, Armin, the last one to go after minutes of convincing you'll be fine alone. You and him reached an impasse to just let him bring home some work to ease the burden a little. The sweet blond man even ordered you salmon and avocado over rice. With tomato and olives on the side. It laid half-eaten as you reminded yourself to finish it later. It only spoiled on top of your desk hours after, realizing the sun is already creeping in the tall buildings of Shiganshina. 

_Cough_.

You've been pretty busy too for 2 weeks now. No time to revisit lingering feelings or the throbbing in between your thighs when you remember some memories of a certain cold winter night. Looking at your phone, the numbers in the screen tells you that Kuchel would need to go home so you can cook, freshen up and let her eat breakfast.

_Cough_.

You've practically carried every portable baby essentials you'll need in case of emergency: thick blanket? Check. Cutesy pillows? Check. Extra pair of clothes? You got it. Hygiene and first aid kit? From A to Z. 

_Cough_. 

Your focus lingered on the screen, tempted to tap open the messages. Levi's name not popping to your notifications after the wall incident. 

_Cough_. 

The memory spread warmth like wildfire in your system. 

That was 2 weeks ago and nothing but a reminder that he will be working with Petra. 

_Cough_.

Should you call him? Demand him to explain why he hasn't been bringing coffee in the morning? Or a text why he has not look at Kuchel's what abouts? Nope, mm mm, not a chance.

_He's probably banging her right now._

"F/N you love your work, your work loves you back..." you chastised yourself, forcing you to stop the thoughts firing your head. Your fingers tapping your keyboard. 

_Cough_.

You checked it again after a mere few minutes. _No new message_. 

Your work is disastrous. While the shampoo hype was going too well than your factory could keep up, the safety net you and the team woven around backfired. 

_Cough_.

You see, when Eld informed the members about the plan B, meaning to pay the regular workers both by share and by cash, they felt... at ease that they have something to go on if shit's about to go. The casual employees, however, did not receive it well. To be given money and nothing to go on pissed them off. They know that they will get sacked.

Maybe Eld emphasized the word Safety Net for the employees _faaar_ the stretch. 

_Cough_. 

So what happened now? Why the umpteenth headache? The regular workers got lazy; they stopped working and practically just waiting for the payment and shares to come by—not caring if the factory closes or burns while the casual employees work their ass off to push the piling demands of production. Altercations started, then came to fist blows then came a strike. 

Result? Your production stopped, the orders piled up and now customer complaints chewed your ass. 

_She's probably moaning his name..._ No, nothing is going on. He said so himself, he would not do it again. 

_Cough_.

_He'll just have to tell you another lie and you'll believe him silly._ It's not a lie. I'll bet my trust in him. Everything's fine. 

_Cough_.

You look at Kuchel, shivering under her thick blanket. Something's not right, you thought, realizing the coughing that buzzed and melted in as background noise was Kuchel's suffering. You reached out to her forehead, and panic rose up like bile threatening to escape your throat. Kuchel has a high fever. 

Adrenaline surged through you; no fucks given at how disgusting and unshowered you look—your daughter is wheezing, and trembling against your arms. You hurried over to your car. 

* * *

"Thank you Mikasa, Eren." You acknowledged their arrival in the hospital with all the things you forgot. Laptop, docx, pens and other things you need for work. 

"Ma'am you need to rest." She worried behind her scarf, her eyes softened as you took a little refuge in them. "We'll call you right away if something happened." 

"That's exactly why I don't want to go Mikasa," you said, tired, groggy eyes rubbed by the back of your hand. "if I can't come here early if something happened, I would not know what to do anymore." 

"She'll want to see you ma'am if she wakes up, so by then, rest up a little. Armin and Jean will take care of the CS so you can take it a little easier today." 

"Where is Sir Levi anyway? Shouldn't he be here?" Eren's innocent question stung you like cold water in a cold day. You heard Mikasa chastised Eren almost immediately. 

"He's busy." You explained for him. _But is he really?_

"That cold-ass jerk. His family's in trouble and he's not here..." He did not shut his mouth and continue to blabber them like you are not in front of him. 

"Eren, it's okay. I'll stay here until Kuchel wakes up. She'll want to see me. You guys, you can deal with the office right?" You asked. 

"Ma'am? She's awake." You almost sprained your neck in turning, your little angel coughing against her nebulizer. "Hey darling, how do you feel?" You cooed. 

"Hungry." 

"I'll get you food okay? Do you have something in mind?" 

"Warm. Like soup and Dada." 

"Dada's not here yet, darling. But I am." 

"Dada. Kuchel want Dada, and soup." 

"I'll get you that soup okay?" It was now time to pay him a visit. No harm right? Your palms are sweaty just thinking about it.

"Eren, Mikasa, I'll take your offer... it if still stands?" You smiled, the want of sleep apparent in your eyes. 

"Of course, ma'am F/N." 

***


	11. Bursting of Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's start with Petra shall we? This chapter smells like... confrontation

* * *

I offered sticks of incense in front of the altar. Oluo's cravat I laundered and dried last week is due for another wash. 

"Good morning Oluo. Watch over me when I go to work okay? I'll be going now, Oluo." His picture frame cold against my lips...

Phone, car key, keycard, pen, hanky, tissue... okay. I have all of the things I need. Locking my apartment door, and slipping into this uncomfortable shoes, the travel down was uneventful. 

Maybe I should not have gone back to the main branch, but Erwin insisted that I work ad hoc to 'reimagine'—as president would put it— the biggest gala sponsored and organized by Survey Corporation. 

It was a good distraction for grief. When I say distraction, I meant _work_ and certainly not a certain co-team leader. 

I heard Levi has a kid with F/N and has been earnest to win her over, I remembered Erwin saying. It was a small detail to tell me that the mistake of 4 years ago should not happen again. 

But misery loves company, you see. 

I'm sure he noticed that I'm trying to refrain myself from brushing over the hem of my sleeves to his arms, or the flutter of my skirt when I turn. Unlike when he was younger, more _active_ to the little game we had, now he was passive. Eyes bored and platonic. Cold and professional. 

It's just a matter of time. 

Reached the office, finally! And I bet he'll pay me a glance today. I look sharp with coat on, and sultry without.

"Oi, Petra, what kind of team have you hired this time? Are they brain dry from diarrhea or something? You don't need these redundancy just for a chandelier and most certainly not pyrotechnics bigger than budget!"

"We need them, Mr. Ackermann."

"Where exactly? Up your ass? Erwin changed your proposed budget. You can't go beyond that." 

"I'm not your subordinate anymore, Levi." 

"Then think like one. If you can't get this shit done, tell Erwin and someone'll pick your fuck ups for you and save your incompetent ass." 

"Are you angry at my work, or are you angry at me for something else?" 

"What's that suppose to mean?" His voice threatening, ready to pounce at the slightest error. 

"Because it seems like you're bringing something on the table not related to work." 

"I bring you financial assessment on your proposed expenses. Way over the budget. Change it."

"No, Erwin said Majestic!" 

"You heard wrong." 

"No I didn't, he wanted it big, I'm giving it to him, and that's final." 

"What degenerate bloodline do you carry that you can't understand the word BUDGET, woman?" 

"Not listening to you." I stuck my tongue.

"Tch," his eyes lingered in my hair, his arm raised and about to do something...

"You have dirt in your hair, like a bird shit." His eyes disgusted, he picked up a clean part to show me where the money has landed.

The door opened. 

"Levi?" 

"Hi F/N." Oohp, the lucky lady alights. And I know what this looks like. 

* * *

"Hi F/N." Was the greeting that bursted into your face as you open Levi's closed door. 

Too close to be called professional.

His bum half-sitting on his table

His fingers on her hair. 

Petra prisoned him in between. 

Told you he was busy! Over her pussy! **Hahahahahahaha**

You gnashed your molars to hold the words threatening to come out. 

You looked at him for explanation, demanding by sight what is going on, or should you interpret whatever this is the way you see it? 

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not it." Levi dismissively said, but you don't need any more excuses. You just made one awhile back that he's probably busy or something. And yes he is. Over Petra that is.

He lets go of her hair, slipped past her and walked over to you. "She had bird shit in her hair. Nothing's going on." 

_What, you gonna confront them?_

_You gonna make a scene for yourself?_

_Can you? Huh? Pussy._

"What are you guys working on?" You diverted the talk with something generic. 

"Just the budget runt. Nothing much for you to be worried about." 

"He wanted me to lessen the proposed expense, I didn't want that." Petra rolled her tongue. "Tell your husband off would you?" 

"Should I? Because the way I see, you look like you wanted that role already by the state of things." 

"Hey F/N, we're just working here. Stop being so jealous. We're not doing anything, or at least _for now_."Petra tried to appease you. 

Appease you? Bitch where? 

She just wanted a reaction from you. And you'll give it to her...the bitch had it coming...

"Oh goodness gracious, Petra, nothing can really stop you, huh?" You started, now aware of how much you're shivering from anger. You've held back enough. All these years you've been silent; an attempt to let time heal you. But now you've realized that _no_ , time don't heal your wounds. Inaction does nothing for you to move forward. It's a cowardly omission—a neglect to let your wounds get infested by worms of the past. 

And now you choose to lick yourself clean. 

"Not even marriage or Oluo can stop you from spreading your legs like a goddamn feast." You walked closer to her, aware that your rage has taken over the air in the entire room but now, you are not one to care. 

"Have you told Oluo about this? How much of a slut you are? Friendships don't matter to you does it? As long as you get MY husband's cock, you're good." 

"F/N," Levi said,

"Shut up Levi." Your attention does not falter from Petra.

"That's your sole purpose in life now? Ruining people's families? Cause I have to admit, you make good living out of it."

"F/N—" 

"Levi, I've shut up for _good_ 4 goddamn years. Let me put your bitch in the slut house she belongs. I'll deal with you later." 

"F/N, I—" Petra started but you cut her off. She has no right or place to defend shit from you. 

"Boo boo, not responsive. You're cumbrain's can't process a question unless a cock's in it so let me restate the question: _did our friendship—did I even matter to you?"_

She was caught off guard, probably waiting for another insult you had in your tongue, but you did not give it to her. You could not even give two shits anymore. They hurt you, you've hurt them, you're too tired to give them propriety and decorum you've prided yourself. Kuchel's pneumonia panic drained your energy. Work drowning you sleepless, and then this? No. You're not gonna get rubbed aside licking other people's boots like a doormat that you were 4 years prior. 

"F/N," Petra started. "When I told you are a friend, it meant that." 

And you shouldn't crack now. Your eyes shouldn't sting, and your mouth shouldn't get dry. 

"Then why?" You hissed. "Why ruin it?" 

"I don't know—" 

"Don't give me that crap, Petra. Both of you exactly knew what you were doing— _every. Fucking. Time_." a few minutes passed, breath held tight; no one uttered a word. You let Petra answer the question bothering you for years.

"I was...envious." She started. "Envious that you have the perfect life. You're smart, have a good job, loving husband... look, it wouldn't matter now but I'm sorry—"

"No," the reveal dawned to you. She misunderstood it. To them, you pulled your shit together and it looked perfect. But is there such thing as perfect? They hadn't seen it when you have to struggle your way up to the corporate ladder; the sleepless night and aching shoulders carrying home copious documents and more documents after working hours. The diet you had to do just to fit in that cute skirt and jeans and the workouts you sneak in to your cruel schedule. 

Let's not forget some days when you and Levi had some differences. The arguments weren't brought outside your house, and certainly always out of sight to prying eyes. Your marriage looked perfect, but you knew better. 

"You're not sorry." You finally spoke. "You were just a jealous cunt thinking you could get what I have if you sleep with my husband."

"I was, and I'm sorry."

"Wrong," you whispered as you inch close to her face. "You can't get to where I am, Petra. I'm a _few_ fucking caliber _ahead_ of you, and you can try," you grabbed her shoulder, pushing her to sit as you _**tower**_ over her. 

"But see? You're _**always below me**_." You hissed. 

You are so not done yet. "No matter how you spread your legs for my husband now, it doesn't matter." You stride to Levi; unmoving and shocked to react to your mouthful of hot kisses. 

"Because he'll always come back to me." You let the kiss go, but did not relinquished your hold on his tie. 

"So learn your place and be contented with it." 

No response. 

"You can leave now, and take your bullshit with you."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry! I might've been too harsh to Petra and It's not my intention to blacken her memory. I personally like Petra, though a little naïve and idealistic, but full of energy and conviction. At least the way I see her. 
> 
> But damn, reader-chan! You fierce boi. I hope you don't scare your husband away though, or maybe he'll love you more that you hardly take two shits from any-fuckin-one. 
> 
> Please leave a review! I love hearing from you guys. I also have some cookies with me if you do! Thank you so much!


	12. An Interlude: Before the Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of your marriage with Levi before shit went haywire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a small break from the drama and sit down with our cups yea? We go down smutfest memory lane, is that okay? ^^

* * *

"Oi." Levi nudged your thigh intending to wake you. You begrudgingly positioned yourself to turn your back on him, he nudges you again... realizing he was using his foot. 

"Stop it..." you said groggily, due to the sudden jerk. You covered your face with a blanket—an attempt to stop his disturbance. 

"Wake the fuck up, runt." He pulled the covers with his foot, depriving you of warmth you accrued snugging in. 

"Just 5 more minutes..." 

"Your 5 minutes turns to 10 then 15 then you'll sleep for another hour, so wake up already." He insisted. 

"We cleaned last night and it's Sunday so no harm right..." you said, trying to retrieve the pulled covers in your legs. 

"That's exactly why you should be up, we're out of cleaning supplies."

"Go by yourself..." you said, cozying up again. 

The room fell silent as you noticed him stepping out, and the car dashed outside your garage. 

* * *

You decided to wake up 15 minutes later; coffee engulfed the whole kitchen as you do. The curtains were swept aside and you were reminded how Levi loved the sky. His praise usually go with 'fine.' or 'tch.' You knew your husband is shit with words, so when he says 'Not bad.' when looking at the sky, it pretty much means ' _beautiful_.' 

Few minutes in, while running a list in your head of the things you have to go for final touches, _(work. again. ugh.)_ Levi entered the house through the back door, his hands busy with grocery items. You knew what they are, and you knew better than to ask. The thought of cleaning again kind of bummed you out. That's normal right? You just cleaned yesterday. 

"Hey handsome." You said, staring at him through your coffee cup. He looked at you—your feet up the chair, toes curled, overlapping each other, still in your bed hair. But you've washed your face and brushed your teeth. You're not an animal for Paradis' sake. 

"Look who decided to wake up." He settled the bags in a corner, as he filled up the kettle for hot water. 

"Suit up, we're gonna clean the backyard before the landscape artist comes for next week." 

You sighed at the warmth drained in your throat. "But first, coffee, yeah?" You said, lifting your cup again to take a sip. 

"What are you saying, you know I don't drink coffee."

"I'm saying we finish our cups first, _slowhead_." You retorted, almost letting out a chuckle you're holding back. But who are you fooling? He can literally see you smiling your teeth out. His eyes shocked, realizing he understood them wrong. You couldn't hold back that chuckle anymore. 

"I know, I know." He said, sighing at his mistake. "You got me." 

"It wasn't a joke though." 

"Just finish your damn cup, runt." 

"I'll have my seconds so let's chill in for awhile." You stood next to him, pouring another cup of coffee. You know he was looking at you, him leaning in the kitchen counter, sipping his tea. 

"If you look any longer, I'll melt, Lev." 

"Exactly what I was aiming for."

"You know, I wonder if your dagger stares got me to hitch with you."

"Do you regret being married with me now?" He said, crossing his arms. "I don't plan on signing any divorce paper anytime ever, F/N." 

"Chill dude, I don't plan to," you cornered him between the kitchen counter. "not ever." You said, planting a firm yet gentle kiss in his lips. "Look alive now!" You said pulling away while patting his chest, diverting his attention. You're about to walk off to get 'suit up' but it looked like he had other add ins in his to-do list. 

He pulls you closer. 

"Coffee time's not over yet, runt." 

His lips tastes like the bitter tea; yours bitter, creamy coffee. He started off gentle, soft, frequent movement of lip locks. You felt yourself giggle against his lips at the 'not-so-sudden gesture'. The irony of his exterior demeanor and when he's with you...

"You've become quite the joker lately..." he whispered against your lips, never ceasing to plant little taps against yours. "Mmm, a change of pace maybe?" You whispered back, gratefully receiving his air light caresses. You felt him hard against your hips, his lips planting trails of gentle smooches in your jawline down to your neck...

His tea long forgotten in the counter, his arms snaked in your back as if he owns it. His fingers slid down the straps of your top, yanking the pitiful fabric enough to expose your breasts. 

"Levi..." you moaned his name, his touch intoxicating you, driving you to insanity in broad daylight. He paid no heed to your futile complaints, aware that you adore him when he worships your body. Soaking you with pleasure only he could give. 

He drew circles of kisses in your breasts, his fingers twisting your erected bud. You didn't know it until you noticed it recently: he always looks at you when you make weird faces by his touches, and it annoyed the heck out of you. But whenever you try to tell him off, he distracts you with his rougher touches; as if scolding you for denying him of pleasure. 

And that makes you cry by how _insanely good_ it felt against your skin. 

_Damn it._

He licked them clean. 

Suck them. 

Plant marks in them. 

He flipped you over the edge of the counter, your clit, although protected by soft layers of soft fabric rubbed against the edge. 

Fuck it feels _so_ good. 

"L-Levi, aren't we—"

He made you rub yourself over the edge of the kitchen counter, his lips planting light, airy brushes against your nape, his hands still busy with your breasts. 

You couldn't contain the moan. 

He chuckled. A low, delicious vibrato in your ears. 

"Look who's laughing now." He whispered in your ear. _His member hard against your ass, the blunt edge of the kitchen counter..._

"Levi... have to clean.." you managed to say in between his rough pushes and sweet, gentle caresses. You heard rustling of garments, and the sudden exposure to cold air in your ass made you shiver. He too, was pushing his pants down, just enough for his member to spring free. 

There was no warning of the sudden intrusion, no pause to let you adjust to him. 

You didn't care anymore if neighbors heard you cry your pleasure, and it seems like he encouraged you too. 

He plunged himself roughly behind you, only to pull in out _t o o s l o w_ , to remind you that every inch of him, belongs to you. 

And again. 

And again.

And again. 

"Do you like this?" He whispered in your ear, his thrusts unforgiving, his withdrawals frustrating. 

"Yes," you said, breathless. "Yes, Levi..." you sounded like begging. "So stop fucking teasing me already..." 

"But your husband's a _slowhead_." He thrusts especially deep this time, only not to pull out. He stayed inside, full, and wide with his length. 

"I can't understand unless you beg." He pushes himself inside, deeper that you thought you've gone mad. 

"Fucking please!" 

"Nicer." He said, pulling out only to thrust again. You can literally hear him smirking. 

"Please..." and you did. 

And again. 

And again.

And again.

"Levi, I'm about—" 

He stopped, and pulled himself out. 

"What?"

_You were so damn near! You were about to have it, and he fucking pulled it out!_

"Suit up buttercup, cause we're about to clean." An all knowing smile plays in his lips as he tap your cheek. "Look alive runt." He walked away, his hands tight on his groceries. 

"Levi, hey!" You said, beyond frustrated, your ass still exposed in your kitchen, nipples painfully hard, your thighs slippery from pleasure. 

"At least finish what you've fucking started!" 

"No idea what you're talking about." As you heard the looped sound of tiles scrubbing. 

"I'll touch myself if you don't finish what you started! You don't want that do you?!" 

He said nothing else. 

"Hey!" 

No response.

You slammed the door to your bedroom, only to be followed by your husband seconds after. 

You couldn't sit right until Tuesday; an 'assurance'—in you husband's word— so you won't threaten to touch yourself anymore. 

***


	13. The Curtain Closes, Another Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the confrontation, the couple goes to the hospital. Petra reevaluates herself.

She shoots, she scores. 

_Ahhh, that felt good._

Or so you wanted to believe. Now it felt like you were a total asshat telling her to 'put her into slut house' or how much of a 'cumbrain' she is. The memories of your recent behavior appalled you as it is a deviation to your upbringing. It left you cringing at your actions, re-evaluating your decisions and how you wish, _wish_ that he too would say something.

Petra excused herself a moment ago, for the last time telling her to take her bullshit with her.

And despite every horrible syllable that came out from you, was the _relief_ to know that you mattered to her too. After all, the worst betrayal comes from the people whom you cared about.

But bridges are burned, and the ashes taste bitter. 

"So, what did you come here for?" Levi said, impatience laced his tongue as words formed in them. "We're busy and we can only accommodate your highness for so long." 

"What, you think I'll give you a packed lunch or something?" You couldn't control your tongue faster than you can talk. 

"You came here to fight? **Leave**. We can't have anymore of your crappy dramas." He said, sitting in his chair, his fingers massaged his nose bridge. He's obviously burnt out. If the woman from 4 years ago was here, she would massage his shoulders and tell him that she'll wait until he becomes free.

You're not that straight laced, cute piece of act anymore. Everything changed, it may be your decision, but it's certainly not your fault. Not _**a**_ fault.

"Kuchel—she wants to see you." 

"That'll have to wait until tonight, runt."

"Levi," you exhaled the piling impatience, drowning them with reason. No talk goes smoothly if both of you speak the language of hostility. _Kuchel needs him now. And it's been a while since she saw him. If he waves her off, that'll be the last time._ You bit your lip to remind yourself to be civil.

"She's at the hospital," he tore his attention to the documents and solely to you. Panic and shock apparent in his tired features. "this is a first that she told me she wanted something."

"Why haven't you called me?" 

"I did. You weren't answering." 

"And you're telling me this now? _Tch_ , damn it F/N," he raised to his seat, smoothly gliding his coat in his arms. "you should've told me sooner! Your Petra bickers shouldn't come first, idiot!" 

You decided to hold on to that remark, it hit you that he's right. Your anger simmers but the thought of your daughter lying in the hospital killed it and you are able to hold back. 

You'll bury it somewhere in your chest, for now. 

* * *

"Which room are we talking about?" 

" Room 147." 

He may be short, but his strides are wide and hasty; even your cute lavender bed slippers—you just noticed that you're not wearing the usual low heeled shoes— were stressed by how much coping they had to do to walk beside him. You see focus and gurgling panic in his eyes. Maybe he has not realized it yet, but in the few months that he has been around tainted him with colors of fatherhood. You knew he didn't have the best childhood; his kind mother you met from his stories long gone, and Kenny, or Kenneth—you prefer to call him in a more formal, distant name, moonwalked away when he didn't have to be in custody anymore. 

He opened the door to Kuchel's room, and your little angel was still and asleep in her hospital bed. He walked over her bed railings, his eyes softer behind the fatigue. 

Historia and Ymir were there too, in swap to Eren and Mikasa. 

He caressed his daughter's hair, as gentle as he could, scared he might wake her. 

"Dada?" She peered, her voice hoarse and weak from coughing; her face marked the dent of the nebulizer that once was attached. 

"How do you feel, brat?" 

"Hmmm." She tried to get up, giving him enough space as if to tell him to come sit beside her. And he did. "Kuchel misses Dada." she tried to squeeze a hug. "A loooot." And she coughed. Levi did not even flinch at the dirt that might have sprayed in his suit. 

"I'll stay here tonight, what do you say?" The child gave him a toothy grin. It had been weeks since you last saw her smile so wide. The past weeks, she was as carefree as she is, yes, but an air of longing surrounded her whenever you catch her staring at the entrance of your office or at your home so expectantly. 

She would sit by the window sill waiting for his car to park in your driveway, or she would stare at you in anticipation whenever you're speaking with someone on the phone. And as much as it pleased you to know that she gets along with her father, the fear of losing your daughter creeps at you. 

Unless you let him in. 

And the thought of doing so feels _right_ and it scares you, not because of his mistake years ago, but because you realized that if you _do_ let him in, he might consume your life, _again_. 

And what if he wrongs you once more? It's not just you he'll hurt this time. You couldn't claim yet that you moved on from the last one, how would you even manage to save Kuchel and yourself for the second time? 

"I'll get lunch," you addressed everyone. You just realized how dehydrated and starving you were. "Kuchel would love soup, yea?" You smiled, meeting her eyes that she got from you. She nodded her head, still clinging to her father. 

* * *

Historia and Ymir already left, your team mates who are good in rearing children. Historia was a kindergarten teacher once upon a time, though her education had nothing to do with kids, she seemed to have the most patent maternal instinct out of everyone in the office. Kuchel warmed up to her as fast as your kettle at home does. Ymir doesn't really mind it, as long as Historia is happy.

You looked at the pile of paperwork you left unattended. Ymir and Historia took care of some, and were generous enough to rearrange them by urgency and deadlines after lunch. Levi, after tiring out the enthusiastic Kuchel all afternoon, had to attend to some phone calls of his own. 

You worked in silence; laptop softly tapping in the background noise of the cheap air condition and Kuchel's soft snores, Levi enters in. You didn't bother looking at him, your spectacles glaring in the blue light of the screen. 

"You should take a breather." He started. 

"I have to finish these before time." 

"You look awful." He looked at your pitiful state; eyes sunken and dark, greasy, flattened hair sticking out, shirt creased, face oily. 

"Tell that to Erwin will you?" You said, saving your progress as you prepare to leave. "I can leave Kuchel to you for awhile right?" He nodded in response. 

"Hey," he said so uncharacteristically. You were busy sorting out the documents that demanded to be finished tonight as you shove them in the bag it came with. "We weren't doing anything awhile ago."

"Let's call it a day Levi, I'm too tired." You muttered an excuse, not ever meeting his eyes. You're numb-awake, surprisingly; the adrenaline had not worn itself out yet. Maybe it's the coffee or the anger, desperation of meeting deadlines, or fright or panic talking—served in an overwhelming plate of buffet you are forced to digest but your body refused to listen to exhaustion knocking in your system. Your _heart_ , however, reached its point where you can't distinguish which is which you're feeling that they demanded themselves out in an act you're long familiar with. 

Wiping your tears like a guarded secret, you told him you'll come back tomorrow early, to relieve him. But he just could not let it go, could he? He just did not want to let you rest. 

He took your arms, and your instinct told you to pull away. "Not today, _please_." You twist his grip; your face tensed as the tears began to fall again. You wiped it off. You refuse to be seen in a vulnerable state. "It's just the stress talking. I'll sleep it off and be back tomorrow."

"I already called someone to bring us clothes and hygiene stuff." He said, taking his coat. "I know you'll want to stay with the brat." 

"And you? Kuchel wants you here." 

"I'll stay here." 

* * *

I stood in my dim, pretty kitchen counter. Pretty, of course, I had Oluo pick this for us. Pretty because the marbled counter with built in stove top and oven with 2 wide paneled sink. Pretty because of the clean smooth, texture or brushed metal and the contrast in colors. 

Pretty, yes, but empty. 

I can't help but laugh at the irony. What did I do all this time? The humiliation rang in my head. I've been trying to turn things around for me all these years and yet...

And _yet_...

The tears greeted me like an old friend. 

Then the news of him in a car accident dawned in my memory. I never plan on telling Oluo about the affair, but he just _had_ to find scraps of evidence I tried to erase. I love him, and the mere thought that he could leave if he knew about how long it persisted like an old untreatable wound scared me senseless. 

How Petra, the pretty ray of sunshine is someone else's bitch— by a _married_ man no less. 

Petra the cute redhead seduced a _friend's_ husband because she's a jealous cumbrain. 

Petra the motivated, idealistic young lady sabotaged a marriage _so_ perfect by spreading her legs like a veteran slut.

The competent secretary Petra.

_Oluo's_ Petra was what I missed to _be_ again.

The police report said the accident was a drink and drive. But the report was wrong. I drove my husband to die with the discovery of my affair. It's no accident. It's a plain, transparent fact of murder. 

And I am the culprit. 

F/N is right. I do have a place and it's not below her. That would be _too_ generous. I am a bottomless pit of reject. A damaged good. 

The blade of the knife reflected in the dim lights. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably this chapter that I was so lost on how I would portray Petra's loss. The woman had it rough all this time, I could just give her a hug right now.
> 
> Room 147, or Maid 147 by Dark Angelic Kitty is the first fanfiction I've had the pleasure of reading far back 2010s, if my memory serves me right. She's one of the fanfiction writer I had the fortune to meet and remember. (And a few more of them!)
> 
> I would not want to spoil what happens next, but Petra has a strong spirit. And can you smell that? It smells like... fluff next chapter. Leave a review! I love hearing from you guys. :)


	14. After a War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petra is pulled by an old friend from thoughts she kept long for herself. 
> 
> The fluff inserts itself.

* * *

"Hello?" I pulled my thoughts away from the kitchen knife, attention now whoever is on the phone.

_"Hey, I'm around the block, have you had dinner yet?"_

"Y-Yeah," My voice cracked over the phone, "I did."

 _"Why?"_ What kind of question is that? The façade of composure back in my voice.

"What do you mean why? Of course I had dinner already, it's late."

_"I'm not asking you about dinner, I'm asking you why you're crying."_

"I'm not crying."

 _"Then get yourself down here and accompany an old friend, Petra."_ Eld said, and I know that the 3 -seater spot in an old family style udon house is occupied.

Now just for two.

* * *

Levi lets you shower first, the hygiene product his assistant brought were full of the things you used 4 years prior. Some you still use, some you now don't. You wouldn't complain though. You changed in a sleeping gown— his assistant brought some NSFW ones much to your annoyance of polluting your daughter's innocence— but you settled on a sleeping gown long enough to cover your knees, worn along with your husband's shirt for modesty.

The television was on; Kuchel bored at her wits' end as she stared in the television. Her nebulizer was back on, for every few hours she had to breathe in them, so she could breathe properly without. The diagnosis was acute bronchiolitis and the pediatrician advised you that given Kuchel's tender age, it has a _rare_ possibility to become pneumonia if left untreated. Levi, being—well, _Levi_ , insisted that Kuchel stayed a little longer, for monitoring and for a thorough check up.

Kuchel and Levi were arguing about that awhile ago, and to your amusement, now they're not talking.

"You can have a go." You said, drying your hair with the towel. He scanned you from head to toe. His eyes lingered at some parts of your body a little longer.

"What?" You gave him an accusing look you give to perverts hitting at you in a coffee shop, in the street, in the office lobby and now, in the hospital room. He stood, and took his toiletries with him. "Make sure the brat finishes that pot session. She always takes it off when I'm not looking." His voice laced with impatience.

"Aye Sir," you mocked in return, pounding your fist in your heart as salute, a familiar gesture you both used to do in mocking each other.

* * *

His soap's clean scent teased your senses as he gone out of the bathroom. It reminded you of the normalcy you had with him, long before Kuchel was born, and long before his mistake was known to you. It sure was nice, but you can't keep on reliving the past over and over. It's done, and nothing you can't do about something that already happened. It _hurt_ , yes, but how long are you going to hold on to an old wound until you decide to patch it up? All these months, his actions had been sincere, his intentions heartfelt. He chose to move forward _with you_ , no matter how **thick** **skinned** _shameless_ it looked, and him still here, with the both of you proved it all the more.

Now it begged the question: _Will you decide to do the same?_

You can't keep on punishing him over and over for the same mistake he is trying to atone from. Sure, it scares you because there is that possibility he might do it again-- _Paradis' help you with that_ , but he is choosing to move forward. _With you._ Reminding him of his mistake does nothing but delay him of showing you the possibility of stronger, beautiful things.

_Doesn't that excite you as much as it terrifies you?_

You tucked the mind bottling thoughts away. Kuchel's medicine long evaporated, you removed the weird mask and set it aside.

"Kuchel, who do you want sleep with?" You cooed.

"Dada." After a few minutes of weighing her options, Kuchel replied.

"Oi, aren't we fighting awhile ago?"

"No. Kuchel loves Dada," she stretched out how tiny arms "t h i s m u c h." You feign a pout of jealousy, but it sure _melted_ your heart of how much your daughter melts your husband's. You kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her to sleep.

"You guys sleep," you said, a foot turning at the direction of your makeshift office. "I have to do this— Levi?!" Your husband's hand gripped your forearms, his other hand pulling the vacant bed closer to Kuchel's.

"Tell me brat, your mother works a lot?"

"Da." She nodded.

"Then if she works a hecka lot she needs to rest no?"

"Da." His grip still firm in your forearm, you tried to remove it, only he womanhandled you by the waist. He's fingers subtly groping your ribs, his fingers gleefully dancing in the borders of your breasts.

_He was definitely enjoying the groping though!_

"Then what do we say to runts who doesn't listen?" He turned you, his words dropping hints of sarcastic clapbacks.

* * *

You were forced to lay in bed, your thoughts preventing a peaceful slumber. Kuchel tucked at your husband's arms, as she snored softly. The moonlight was bright; bright enough to see their sleeping forms, and dark enough to observe the shadows in your husband's eyebrows as it twitched.

He jerked awake, his lips formed gasps of uneasiness.

Luckily, Kuchel wasn't the type of sleeper to be disturbed by petty, small motions and loud noises.

"Nightmares?" You asked, observing him as you adjusted yourself up.

"Surprised?" He replied, his breathing uneven. Sleeping is the most vulnerable he had been and the weakest you've seen him in all the time you've spent with. There were worse cases in the past where he yells himself awake, sweat soaking his shirt, dripping in his hair and you would have to sit upright to calm him down, assuring him it was a nightmare no matter how real it looked.

Times when he bruised your arms and shoulders; consumed at the thought that you too, would leave him if he lets go. His fingers cold, sweaty and trembling against them, he would cling to you that it hurt, and you had to bear with the pain, in exchange for his comfort. This was mild, but you can only guess what the sunken, dark shadows of his eyes had seen so many times, in different forms as he tried to rest.

To others, sleep is a given. To Levi, it was a luxury he rarely affords.

"Did it ever stop?" You whispered.

"It did."

"When was that?"

"Long ass time."

"When did it come back?" It took a few moments for an answer to escape from his lips.

"When you left."

This time you allowed yourself to get up, pushed your bed until the foams touched together, railings retracted and tucked in the sides; both of you closer than you've ever been since past few months. He allowed you to see him in a state he never showed to anyone; the Levi Ackermann tough-as-nails bastard the world knew, has another layer. And although you have not seen every corner of him than he allows you to, you will be patient, as he is to you.

You laid back to your bed, your eyes not peeling away from his guarded, tired eyes. "May I..?" you slowly extended your hand, trial touches caressed his own as if asking for permission to entwine your fingers with his.

And he allowed you to.

A sigh of relief washed over you. You dosed him of reassuring gaze to comfort him. Your fingers massaging and drawing circlets to let him know you're still there. You can't fight his demons for him, but you'll fight his demons with him. Like how he does with yours.

Soon after, his soft breathing slow and shallow like Kuchel's.

Your fingers still entwined, his warmth guarded you from thoughts which restrained you a while ago from sleep.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pacing of the Story: I'll be skipping 2 days in uploading the chapter for tomorrow so I'll leave you with another chapter to ponder upon until then! 
> 
> Tell me how you find the story so far! 
> 
> Thank you for taking your time to read. :)


	15. Thinning Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise awaits Levi after a long day's work. It came like a storm in his face.

You stared, annoyed at the memorandum that came with Hange, personally, this morning.

_Re: Holiday Celebration:_

_This is to inform all employees of Survey Corporation are invited to attend the annual 2-day weekend holiday celebration. The details are enumerated below:_

_Place: Trost Casté Hotels, Mitras Ave. 167, 2501 Paradis._

_Time and Date of Departure: 7 AM, December 21, xxxx_

_Be advised that bringing in a visitor not affiliated to the Corporation is extremely discouraged. Travel accommodations will be provided. Private vehicles are allowed._

_Bring in the Joyous Spirit!_

You looked at the memo, eyeless curves of alphabet stared back at you. You groaned, stealing Kuchel's attention from the book she was reading. "Mama?"

"Mama's fine darling," you assured her, but as much as you wanted to go and have a good time with colleagues, you can't bring Kuchel with you, so it's a no go. Besides, you have a mountain of problems to deal with: The employees went back to work, and the production continued. So that's one less a problem to your list. But given how much publicity the shampoo received, the production needed to double itself. It's nice the sales are going up, thanks to everyone's hardwork...

Then there's the regular workers. No matter the amount of sympathy you carry for them, you can't really allow their reluctance to work because they wanted to have a parcel of land in their name, money and shares. That was _just_ the plan B, and it seems that they're praying the shampoo popularity bonanza to fail.

The memory from a while ago played in your head as you continue to gush over the cute-sized bottlets in your receiving table. You set aside some bottles for Mikasa, Sasha and Historia to try, too.

_"Yo, F/N!" An old, smelly friend dropped by your door._

_"Oh." You wished to be more surprised. "Hange. It's nice you dropped by." Kutchel was observing the stranger, her stance was to run behind your midi skirt for protection. "What can I do for you?"_

_"Don't be so stiff!" The loud, booming energy ofthe joyful Hange echoed the room, Kuchel jumping at the sudden highs and lows of Hange's voice. "I was near so I might as well drop by!"_

_"You went to the site, didn't you? You want to look at the production process, because you're panicking they might mess up your formula."_

_"Quite the contrary, ever so suspicious lady." Hange's hand curled in to the hips. "I visited here to see how's the production process, I heard it continued."_

_"And you were worried."_

_"Not at all."_

_"Hmm," you squinted animately. "Can it be you have something for me?" You said, your palms open and ready, sweating in anticipation fromthe sample products that will soon be released in the market. It passed all trials. The launch however, is not yet on the mark. It was a tacit agreement between you: Hange gives you products to try, you give the 'shitty-glasses' feedback. A detailed, format-slaved, constructive feedback. And you can't forget how much the chemist whines if it's without recommendation._

_"Speaking of something," Hange started, "You can't miss this project I've worked on!" The slender, bespectacled oddball advertised with pride, revealing cute, fat bottlets. "New line from yours truly!" The genius said, the thuds in the table emphasized the mini speech of advertisement syllable by syllable._

_And for a few minutes more, you gushed over the new line of skincare products Hange occasionally sends. But it can't be the only reason why this genius chemist personally paid you a visit right?_

_Ahh, about **Moblit**. So much for the platonic tension._

_"Who could be better than to approach a married friend?" The Survey top gun chemist revealed the conclusion, drawn from layers of thoughts and you could only giggle at the cute, awkward questions toward... human attraction._

_Moblit and Hange are the unlikely couple anyone could've missed in the Survey's ropes. The diligent, careful, honest-to-goodness assistant and the free-thinking, borderline obsessed scientist. You've seen how they interact before: the assistant always a nagging presence behind Hange's antics. The duo had their rough times, but to the chemist, no matter how much Hange shakes off the feeling of the impending abandonment, it comes back to bite._

_Moblit got a high paying offer from Marley Orientals Co.— a rival company of Survey Corp._

_They might even make him partner._

_There is a non-disclosure clause in the contracts that bind them, but Hange was not concerned about that. Heck, the person can pick from potato soup and transform it to a new type of vodka._

_But in terms of feelings, the genius is a fawn._

_"How are things between your husband anyway?" Kuchel crawled in Hange's lap, a manuscript still in her tiny hands. Her attention torn between the pages and Hange's bait of sweets. "Heard Levi's working with Petra again."_

_"Blurry," you said, not giving much details. Levi had not given you the extent of his affair, and you'd rather that it stayed that way. You may have softened up to your husband— a little— but it doesn't mean you'll soften up to your mutual friends who might knew and agreed to keep things from you just to keep their relationship with you, civil._

Civil, but not loyal. If they think they don't owe you the truth, then you don't owe them your trust.

_And besides, you're not exactly the type to burn bridges without a cause._

_Although something tells you that Hange has a clean conscience. Not the type to meddle, and certainly not the type to care._

_"Well, not really my area, but it would be better if you let him be." He said in all knowing note. "He's that type to not do the same mistakes anyway."_

_"Hange," you said, "did you know about his affair with Petra?" you didn't bother holding your tongue._

_"I didn't." Was the cold and conscise response you got. "But if I did sooner, I would tell you."_

_"Yeah?" You sipped your coffee._

_"Not out of loyalty to you but because I think it's wrong." The coffee long forgotten, the scenery from the window in their scrutiny. "It'll leave a bad taste in my mouth, if I knew I could've done something."_

You mentally noted to try the newly acquired products when you get home.

* * *

"Mom, seriously, your back hurts, you don't need to come here, I'll bring Kuchel with me!" You told your mother in the phone, one hand on a spatula, your shoulder holding a phone in place with your 'just-did-workout' braids fixed in place. Your parents were insisting to drop by after work, since the drive was not too long.

They're on honeymoon, for the umpteenth time since marriage. Theirs was an envy-worthy tale cringe romance, and when you broke the news about Levi's affair, your father's blood pressure shot up, as he fast as he could get his hunting gun.

It took your mother's bawling act to calm him down, and when he did, they offered their time to be with Kuchel whenever you needed the break. You could never wish for better parents.

And how you wished you also have their type of romance. Sometimes.

"What do you mean you're on the way?!" You checked the time, literally panicking. "I don't have anything to prepare—what?!" You're shrieking now. It alarmed you that they plan on staying the night.

 _"Are you expecting company?"_ Your mom asked you over the phone.

 _"That's a load of bullcrap, chérie, that dipshit of a husband's got no strand of nut hair to come near our ange."_ Your father spat, his crude manner of talking was something you grew warm of. Although your mother scolds you (until now) whenever you speak the 'devil tongue' as she puts it, you're too old to learn new tricks. Besides, you've always thought that even when cursing like a sailor isn't something professionally accepted, it protected you from the unhealthy amount of office politicians who wanted to 'put you in the right place'.

"Dad, no cuss words in front of Kuchel, okay?" You scolded him.

_"Of course, mon ange."_

"And stop with the embarrassing nicknames."

 _"We see your house honey,"_ you heard a car in the driveway.

* * *

Your mother is a wonder in cooking. You thought it was a given to all old ladies, but she could give a scare to a michelin star chef to go back to school if she so wanted. You received quite the scolding when they saw you in your workout clothes, (she ordered you to go and take a bath, right after they saw you) cooking with a phone in your shoulders as if they weren't the cause.

The worst nagging came when she saw **Kuchel. With a Tablet. Reading.** Then she went on full 34 minutes just to tell you how much strain blue light gives to the eyes, how she should be playing outside and how Kuchel's would be fried due to excessive use. It's not that she's wrong, it's just that, she's loud.

"Dada!" You heard Kuchel called, your nerves tensed, the impending altercation emerging at every step of your husband...

A moment of silence had passed,

And another.

And—

"What typa garbage goes back to the fucking bin?" You should've told your father off about his language, as Kuchel can pick it up seconds after, without knowing what it meant. But your father started. His face red, his lips pursed. And his blood pressure all time high. Levi, too, was shocked at the seeming intrusion he did not mean to invite himself.

"Good evening, Sir." He said, taking a brief moment to bow. "Ma'am."

"Levi!" Your mother said, loud enough to stall a distraction, extending her arms for a hug. "It's been a while isn't it?" She looked at his face intently, her palms taking notice of his sunken features. "Have you eaten? Your color's bad." Although your family is aware of his affairs, your mother was the one to be at peace with any decision you would come up with. You're father, however, could hardly contain his anger by the mere mention of your husband's name.

As a mother, you somehow understood his anger. Rearing you until you could be on your own; giving his whole trust to another man to take care ofyou with the same amount of love he invested and generously showered for a big chunk of his lifetime only to cower at a sign of commitment took the blow for him.

It wasn't 'manly'.

It wasn't honorable.

It was a question of his decision to give your husband the privilege to be with you.

It was an insult— a mockery of his effort to your upbringing.

"Call me mom, yea?" Your mother said, giving Levi's frigid figure a hug in the process. Kuchel was at his leg, her tiny fingers clutching her father's belt.

A fist came flying in Levi's jaw as soon as your mother was in safe distance.

"Kuchel!" You screeched, and seconds seem to pass much slower; your daughter's head banged the floor with a sound, her elbow absorbing the shock of her fall. Levi stumbled, his back found solace in the drawer; his face a little swollen.

Panic rose like a cold water poured in your head, your mouth began to dry up, your fingers, trembling. Your father hasn't had enough, no, not yet. He picked Levi by the collar, and sat on him like a comfortable low stool from your childhood.

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

And Levi, despite getting bombarded by your father's angry punches, did not lift so much as an arm as _if..._

You took your daughter away, realizing your husband had been holding off the fall of the drawer next to Kuchel.

It could've crushed your daughter's leg.

**Tack.**

**"She good pussy?!"**

**Tack.**

**"Ya scumbag for brains!"**

**Tack.**

**"Why'd ya let your dick talk for ya shitty little bitch!"**

**Tack.**

**"I'm gonna skin ya alive motherfucker!"**

**Bang!** The drawer fell, dozen of china ceramics crashed and scattered on the floor.

Your daughter wailing.

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

Kuchel cried his father's name, a sight of traumatic impression you don't want to leave a print in her mind. You gave her to your mother.

"Dad, stop it!" You joined in, pulling him away from your husband, but he was too strong. Too heavy.

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

**Tack.**

_Slap_.

Your mother _had_ to intervene.

"Stop it _chéri_ , you're a disgrace."

Only then did the storm of a father calmed before his wife.

Kuchel was seeking comfort at the swell of your bosom, her ear-splitting cries blasting in your ears, her elbows bleeding; her head now has a painful swell. But Levi? Levi was worse. His lip popped like a squished grape, his once clean, iron crisp shirt now crunched up and smeared with blood. His nose bleeding, the sides of his face red and blue.

You didn't say anything. A grey gesture while you carry your family to your bedroom.

* * *

"We're so sorry honey." You're mother said, the wrinkles in her eyes apparent. "If there's anything I could do, don't hesitate to tell, okay?"

"I will. Take care, mom." You nodded to your father. "Dad."

"I'm so sorry _mon ange—_ "

"I know you're angry at what my husband did." Words of understanding began to spill from your lips.

"But don't dip your fingers over my marriage."

"You expect your papa to shut up and suck it? I did not raise you to be a cum-slave over that greedy bastard's dick, angel!"

"Exactly dad," You said, "so why are you so _convinced_ that I'm doing the wrong thing?"

"You gonna build a fucking gingerbread house soon? He cheated up your ass angel! He a cheater, he always be a fucking cheat, I tell ya!" His rage soaring, and it scares you that his heart may skip more beats than it should've. You could only hope that the next words would come out as gentle as you intended them to be.

 _"Maybe he will,"_ your intentions betray you, the pang of pain coming back because of your father's cruel reminder, that one, two _three_ or god knows how many times your husband broke his promise of fidelity. "but if you can't trust the man I married, at least trust the way you raised daughter, dad. I know you've raised me well." You kissed his cheek, his fumes subsiding. Your voice now gentle, soothing.

"At least trust my decision, that much you owe yourself."

* * *

Kuchel's abrasions in the elbows will turn to bruises, you thought, as you cleaned and bandaged the pained flesh behind her joints. Levi remained sitting, his eyes not wavering at Kuchel's sobs.

You hummed a tune to distract her from the pain. "I'm sorry darling that you had to see that." You leveled your eyes at her scared ones, her form trembling; still processing the deviation from the everyday reality she gets to experience. A reality you know doesn't hold true for every child, but an illusion you want yours to remember.

"Let's get you tucked in, yea?" You smiled, showering her with kisses as you carry her off to her room. You hummed a tune in her ears, mentally noting that you'll have to check in on her later for a walk-in hospital visit. _But first..._

Levi's shirt was off, his figure reflected the mirror as he treats himself. You see the twitches his eyebrow makes every time the sting from the antiseptic outdo it, and you can't help but walk up to him and take a washcloth to clean his cuts.

For the very person whom your father wanted to protect you from, you would put yourself in between him and Levi. He matters to you, and never did it occur to you _how much_ until you were at a verge of losing him. Until you've seen how you might have lost him.

But you're not ready to let him know it yet. Not yet.

"Let me." You said, grimacing at how bloody his lips had been. "We'll have to go to the doctor later."

"How's the brat?"

"She's fine, now let me worry about you." You took the cotton that does not actually clean it with satisfaction. You took the washcloth and dabbed his lips clean. "You took quite the blow."

"I know where that amazonian arms of yours came from now." He teased. You dabbed the washcloth a little rougher.

"Sorry for being not so feminine."

"That's fine," An awkward silence. "I dig it."

"You could've punched dad you know."

"We don't want him in a fancy ass casket sooner than scheduled."

"Not funny, Lev." You stopped cleaning his bloodied lips, you went for the nose. You let the worry show in the gleam of your eyes. "You could've protected yourself."

"And then?" He stared back, bloodied and bruised. His stare still the same, intense, penetrating ones that caged you for so long. "It would only prove how much he's right. That's easy shit, punch him gutless; he'll be knocking at that damn door sooner that he'll want to think."

And you let him continue.

"And if I did that, even if he's dead, he still proved how _right_ he is."

"You already **proved** to Kuchel you're a great dad. Your daughter adores you, Levi."

"I know. And you?"

_Oh no. Not yet._

"Let's get those wounds checked, I'll get Kuchel." He restrained your forearms faster than you can get up, caging you between his thighs, imprisoning you with his gaze. He should not ask that question you are not ready to give _the_ answer to. Too early, too fresh, and too terrifying.

But he was not asking; he was _pleading_.

_Oh god, I can't breathe._

"Are you getting tired waiting for an answer Levi?" You looked at him, not a mockery sipping in your gaze, nor a hint of sarcasm dripping from your tone. You felt him loosen his grip, your knees buckle from the intensity of his gaze. He caught you faster than your form hitting the cold, hard tiles. He bowed his head to reach the back of your hand, the warm blood from his lips stained your skin. The pressure lifted, but the feelings it planted, never left.

"I'm not a very patient man F/N," he held your cheeks, tilting gently like something ever so fragile it could break as fast as he touches it.

"It might not have to be _now_ ," the fresh blood in his lips now planted warm, coppery and sticking to your forehead. "but soon, you'll _have_ to give me one."

And hearing this, you're torn between the boring drizzle of calm without him, and the storm with him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... how do you like roughed up Levi?! 
> 
> Poor Kuchel had to be caught up with reader's father's fury. I'm sorry I've been cruel to her lately. But the sweet little angel is a fighter. She can take it, she's an Ackermann! 
> 
> Reader already has an answer but is again holding her tongue. When the Earth's time zone is she going to let him know? But will she let him know though? Or will she change it? Hmmm...
> 
> I thought inserting Hange, being the brainiac who has an unbiased view over things is much needed for reader-chi to see that not all people whom she thought she could trust will or did betray her. I think she needed that much assurance. 
> 
> Reaction so much appreciate! I'm a sucker for them!


	16. A Time for One's Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring in the Holiday Season

_"Then get yourself down here and accompany an old friend, Petra."_ Eld said, and I know that the 3 -seater spot in an old family style udon house is occupied.

Now just for two.

* * *

"You've gotten fatter, Petra." Sir Eld downed the zesty liquor in his cup.

"Stop it, Sir! You know how hard it is for women to stay pretty." Liquor is a good numbing agent, but I sometimes don't like how dehydrated my skin gets in the morning.

"You look okay, don't fuss over it." He said, his udon cold and forgotten. I ordered the _napa gyoza_ — can't eat too much after dinner. Actually, _shouldn't eat at all_ after dinner. But, it's a good choice with liquor. "You look cute with some meat too."

"I'm a married woman sir," I hope my voice sounded happy. "Stop hitting on me. Go find some cute girls in my stead."

He laughed. Maybe tipsy from the alcohol; he had been going at it for 2 hours now! He poured me a drink that I really did not want to take. I'm the subordinate, so I should be pouring him a cup. "Can't do that now, Petra. The lady's married you know. I thought his husband's her brother but boy, was I wrong."

"So you drink in her sorry memory, huh? You'll piss yourself by the morning, Eld."

"Oh, I don't piss myself. But you and Oluo did."

"Stop reminding me, seriously!" Now I wanted that cup! "I didn't piss myself sorry, Oluo did!"

"You were so scared before your first big presentation that day, that you went in tipsy."

"We just braved that out sir! Oluo was scared shitless back then!" I can't help but play his memory of wetting his trousers in front of the Board...

"Oh!" He said, "You're laughing."

And I'm reminded again that I _shouldn't_.

Does anyone have that person where you don't intend to think about them, but when they cross your mind, you're lost to your memories with them? Oluo has that effect on me, even after he left.

"Don't you dare go bawling on me." He teased. When did I ever? Petra the ray of sunshine is on roll! "We're here for booze and good times!"

_Petra the ray of sunshine is the only person I am left._

"Right!" I poured him another cup.

 _So I must keep the act together_.

"Oluo— I'm sorry, I should've driven for him that night."

"You shouldn't worry about things you didn't know would happen!"

_Must keep the act._

"I know you're still grieving, but it's been 3 years, Petra. Oluo wouldn't want you to lock yourself up in his memory."

"You're right. Dad says I could always get remarried because men are lining up anyways!"

_That's it, get your act together. No one will do it for you._

"Exactly. You're a brave, fine woman. It's not late for you to remarry." I bear to listen as he gulped the last of his drink. "But no need to put that cute face thing you're doing right now. It's insulting considering how many years you both worked with me."

"Yes, Sir!" I pursed my lips upward, a surefire way to keep the tears at bay.

"Said no need you woman! Your turning glassy-eyed anyway! " And I did.

"That's the least I can do for a subordinate. I failed you before, so let me make up to you."

"Yes sir." _Because without it,_

"And don't wear that black thing in your eyes when you cry, it's scary."

_what will I be left with?_

* * *

"Kuchel, darling," You leveled your face with your daughter's; caressing her cheek, her undivided attention into you. "Mommy will pick you up on Monday, okay? That's 3 days from now."

"Will Dada come with you?" She said softly, her eyes expecting you to tell her that her father's coming when you pick her up. "He will." You look at your mother, tacitly telling her to warn your father. "We will come pick you up." You kissed her cheek, her face registered one that is about to cry. It alarmed you; surely, she wanted Levi to come with you right?

"Papi's scary!" _Oh, that was the tears are all about._ You took her for a hug, your hand rubbing her back as if dusting the worries she still have after the altercation. You shouldn't be leaving Kuchel to your mother for the holiday celebration— for the love of Paradis because you hate leaving your daughter. She was like the reward after a whole day's work. Her soothing curiosity never irritates you— in fact you encourage even the senseless questions she had in mind. But your team was faultless when they told you that you needed to let loose. It may not be the luxury vacation and pampering you have in your imagination, but you hate how right they were when they told you 'you have no social life.' — As Ymir bluntly put it.

The arrow knew where to strike!

Your mother raised you that way, and now, you raise Kuchel the same way your mother did to you. "Papi's not scary darling. Remember when he made you that _orzo_ soup?" She nodded.

"Was he scary back then?"

"No." She said, relief started to color her features. "Papi's cooking is delicious." She imitated the chef's kiss, one that she picked up from your father. _Her cuteness will be the death of me, seriously!_

"Give mommy a kiss?" She smacked her lips to your cheeks, her arms snaked at your neck. "Listen to gran, okay?" You reminded her one more time.

"Okay."

* * *

The drive with the company car you and your team was fetched with came in white, 10-seater SUV. It smelled like potato chips and overripe bananas at it drove nearer to the Mitras. The once loud, excited gang of young professionals succumbed to exhaustion... and you can't help but take a picture:

Eren's head rested on Mikasa's while he ground his molars;

Dozed off Jean swaying his head towards Mikasa's shoulder;

A sleeping Armin and his lopsided reading glasses; his cheek pressed ugly in the car window;

Sasha's mouth dusted potato chip crumble;

Connie was animating his dream;

And finally, Ymir and Historia cuddling at the back of the car.

It sure is a holiday you will remember.

* * *

Trost Casté Hotel is something anyone would beckon with.

The 5- star hotel in Mitra's avenue would slap it to anyone's face, and they couldn't be sorry about it. The long lobby was floored with white slate-like texture you are not familiar with; tree-like lamps lined up in the middle of the space providing light as if the wall high glass window at the very end wasn't enough.

And then, there's this still, rectangle of a pond centered and will grab anyone's attention from the white and gold of scattered furniture.

Let's not talk about the smooth wood of cinnamon colored wall...

It spelled two words: **Damn. Expen$ive.**

Is Erwin going _insane_ that he agreed to spent 2 days out of business for his employees to use this whole diamond of a hotel?

Did Levi put up with this?

How is the company going to afford to lend this whole place for 2 whole days and in a peak season, no less?!

You felt as if you are going to be arrested just by scratching a tile.

People from different branches of different functions gather to the lobby. They had the same awe stretched in their mouths; their necks held higher than they could've ever. Wonderment did not discriminate workers of different pay grades.

"Eren, I let's go see the ocean."You heard Armin giddy at his toes, his eyes had that glimmer of a child's.

"What ocean? In this freezing weather?" Jean said.

"What, you got a problem with Armin's idea? No law says you can't go to the ocean in winter, horse-face."

"You brave because Mikasa's there to baby-sit your ass when it gets cold, limpdick."

"Oi, pretty high thing to say when you just want to bone her, right?"

"But ma'am, did they text you which room we'll stay?" Mikasa calmly said, apathetic that she's part of the petty bickering of her colleagues.

"Yeah," you said, checking your e-mail. "We're room xxxx..." your words trailed. Given how enormous this place is, it's no wonder the Corporation was generous enough to give you all separate suites. The economy size alone felt like a fancy business suite from the website when you took the time to check.

One afternoon.

And you meant every free time in the afternoons you had.

But no one must know how excited you got.

Because that would be embarrassing.

Goodness gracious, you can't help but feel younger with them around.

* * *

_Damn, now that's some suite we're talking about._ You're not going to admit it's quite tempting to think about your husband given a rare, _free_ holiday. But you've spend so much time and energy about him lately and all the things he stirred in you.

"Mom? I just got here. How's Kuchel?"

_"Oh, honey, she's fine. She has some flour in her face but that's how much messy she could get."_

"I'm sorry if she's causing you trouble—"

_"Nonsense, she's never causing us trouble honey. It's not everyday we have a ray of sunshine at home. Don't spoil your vacation overthinking about her. She'll be fine."_

A lump in your throat eased its way down your stomach when you heard Kuchel's laughter on the background. The nervous energy swallowed and forgotten, replaced with relief at your mother's words. "I'll see you on the next few days okay? Thanks mom. I'll get you souvenirs once I get back."

 _"Now, go enjoy your vacation honey! Don't forget to wear warm clothing okay? You got your coat didn't you? It's freezing!"_ The realization that you mirrored the worry of your mother's words to Kuchel. You can't help but smile at the thought.

"I did mom, don't worry too much," your husband was standing in your doorway. _"Je t'aime, maman."_

You observed his slacken, tired features. His jaw still had the blue and now yellow on them, his lip still healing from the one-sided punchfest not so long ago. He came closer now that you've hung up on the phone. "You look like you're ready for vacation." You teased dryly.

"Vacation my ass." He sneered.

"Why? Erwin drowning you at work?"

"That's an understatement." He looked at your luggage, your clothes you're about to change to spread in your bed. "Can't come with you. You'll be fine, right?"

"I got through for a few years, I won't be bawling my eyes out without you for 2 days." Your smiled at your attempt in humor. It's not that you're reminding him of his faults prior. Now the note is different. The air on the syllables that escape from your mouth is different. The answer itching to roll out of your tongue made sense, like all the scenes in your life that shouldn't have. You've come this far, and you're almost ready to let him in, after pleading in your doorstep for so long.

You walked over to him, closer, until the slightest dried blood in his lips is made known to you, until the lines in the sides of his eyes stretched and wrinkled in tiredness. You traced it with your fingers, and their was no flinch that came after.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No. If anything else, it's itchy."

"It's healing. You should put some more ointment on it."

"I do. Where do you plan on going?" His eyes left you for the flowers in your desk. _Purple columbine and daffodils._

"Have fun with the rest, taste some native food, usual tourist stuff." He looked at your clothes. Deciding it wasn't warm enough, he left you his blazer on your shoulders, his scent lingered in your nose. "That's not gonna hold in. You'll need thicker ones. Knowing you, you haven't brought ones you think you won't need." You smiled at his frowning concern.

"You should get some sleep, Lev." Worry started to dawn in your eyes. "And Kuchel's at mom's. She'll be fine."

"I know."

The silence embraced the cold.

"Go on, you have some more work to do don't you? Bring in the Holiday spirits!" the sarcasm reached his ears.

* * *

You felt like you need to get out of the museum and just roll somewhere in that cute themed café. You felt intruding.

Armin and Annie were flirting.

God knows where Eren and Mikasa were;

Ymir and Historia were busy with something you don't want to meddle with.

Sasha, Jean and Connie still in the hotel buffet.

And you feel alone at a museum, a warm, strong coffee locally produced in Mitras to combat slight tipsiness. It was something that sparked your interest. Who knew that Mitrasians, the wealthy of Paradis believed in titans that they enclosed themselves in walls? You wonder if it holds true for most people of Paradis before but that isn't the case anymore.

Your feet walked and stopped to places.

 **Carla's** was where the best self-brewed booze is made; you drank a pint or two in broad daylight.

Then you stopped at **Flegel's Cured Meats** for citrus smoked Spicy Ham to taste and take home with you.

You had full body massage and waxing and facial you booked 4 days ago.

And finally, brought some clothes in Isayama Boutique. It featured a flare of traditional sews and embroidery in modern clothing. You brought a pair and brought some for Kuchel too.

And finally.

You let the purple Columbine and Daffodils in Kuchel's tomb sway by the wind. These weren't her favorite flowers; you wouldn't know to be honest. The things Levi told you weren't exactly a lot, but it was detailed for a young boy who lost his mother.

"Hi, I'm F/N. Your son's wife." You sat on your midi skirt, stockings picking up loose weeds as you did. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

You chatted until it was time to go back. You remembered they will hold a buffet at 9 PM.

* * *

Finally, my eyes will burst if I read another fucking letter.

8:45 PM.

The runt sure had balls to go and have a good time without me. Before, she would be waiting for me in the room so we can go together; independence for 4 years taught her a lot. And it would be embarrassing to admit that I missed that part of her.

But Erwin is a fucking turd trapped in my ass.

I owe him. He's the guy that spilled the information to the investigator I hired to look for the runt. Then her wife knew how much he partied in Coron. F/N wasn't the whistleblower. Who knew how she found Erwin. But that's not my problem.

The cheater's club is pummeled. He wished to have Marie back. And that should explain the grand gesture. So Marie can know who Erwin screwed back then. Don't know, don't care.

She should be back in her hotel room by now.

* * *

I shouldn't drink vodka and coke because it puts too much stretch on my waistline.

"Oi, Petra, been a long time since I saw you touched liquor!" Gunther said, a co-worker in the ad hoc gala ops. "You think you can do without? You scare me when you get drunk."

"Join me so I'll have someone carry me back to my room." I teased, downing a gulp and mixing in some more. "I worked a lot to deserve a glass you know."

"How's life treating you?"

"You see me everyday and now you ask?" _Boy_ I'm a little _more_ tipsy than I should be. Maybe I really need to stop. "I'm eating well, sleeping well, shitting well. What more do you need?"

He laughed. "Let's get you back okay? You're drunk."

I don't know where I am, but the hallway's hazy as fuuuuck. It's moving, but why is it moving? Is it suppose to move? Is it suppose to move on?

Am I suppose to move on?

Holy shit is tha— "Oluo!" _He's alive!_

I heard someone tell me something to not runbut the fuck I give is neeear zero. "Hey! Why did you leave? Do you know how much emotional shit I need to go through?"

Damn these tears. If only they taste like numbing juice.

"I don't know if it means anything now, but I'm sorry. I didn't do it again after you left. So please, just come back..." I smoothed his undercut, "Stop imitating Sir Levi, Oluo! You look good with brown hair you know!"

"Petra," his voice different, not like the rough, crude texture that grew on me. But I don't need the words right now.

His lips felt so familiar, but it's different. It doesn't feel like...

I felt the gentle shove and the reminder that I did something very wrong.

"Oluo's dead. Dead is dead. He won't come back even if you drink yourself wasted, so get your shit together."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daffodils means rebirth. 
> 
> Purple columbine, when given to another, means you highly respect the recipient. The purple columbine also means penance, something that Levi had been doing since reader-chi left. 
> 
> Levi's line with Petra is something that was inspired when he lost his whole squad where he goes: "Whether you have a body or not, dead is dead." It's a cold thing to say, but I think that line too cruel is a bold reminder that she needs to get a grip of herself. If you lost someone, they stay with you. But see, it doesn't mean that when you go with your life, you forget them. Petra did. But will Levi tell reader-chi about the little drunken smooch? Will she change her answer if she knew? 
> 
> Will you?


	17. The Green Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world takes its course as it turns the sinner to innocent.

You twisted your hotel door, excited for dinner buffet. You heard from Sasha it's themed differently for every weekend, and your lucky that tonight is going to be Filipino-Mexican fusion. Your taste buds are looking for mouth watering carbs and protein, and the thought of _adobo_ in tortilla wraps sounds sounded divine.

"Petra," you heard Levi's voice, and you can't help but freeze. Is he talking to Petra? This is holidays, it shouldn't be an extension of work, right?

"Oluo's dead. Dead is dead. He won't come back even if you drink yourself wasted, so get your shit together."

_Oluo's dead?_

The discovery took your breath, and the words rang over and over in your ears. Now you question your outburst back at Levi's office if it's justified, and you can't help but not feel sorry for her. After all, she mattered to you once. You already said everything that you carry in your chest back then, and there is nothing left to say.

"Gunther," You heard your husband say, "I'll take it from here. Do you know which room she stays?"

"Room xxxx sir."

You heard the dragging of feet, and the closing of the door. Your knees weak, unsteady. Why did it have to be Levi that take her to her room? Why not this Gunther guy, or anyone else?

Suddenly, the _adobo_ in tortilla wraps felt dry to you.

* * *

I felt firm mattress of the bed, Levi taking off my shoes. What, he like the rape thing kink now? Is that a kink? Isn't that a little too harsh even for him? This guy is just pure, rough vanilla fuckery. I would know.

"What, wanna screw me again? Your wife will kill you if she sees this." Urgh, the hiccup.

"She will so let's get this straight: I didn't talk to you, carry you to bed nor did I come here, do you understand?"

"Always the highness, sir." My senses dawning a little, but the sarcasms didn't stop. "You should go. Your wife hates me when she sees you with me you know," I'll let it out, her wife didn't hold back so why should I? This is his fault, not mine. This is what killed Oluo, this isn't on me.

"She does. I need to tell you something."

"No, I go first Levi." I couldn't stop now. Why did I have to look like the tramp? The slut? I don't deserve this. I worked my ass off to get where I am and...

"I seduced you and you gave in. F/N shouldn't put this on me. If there's anyone else to blame, it's you. You took the bait and we should've stopped after a night but you _agreed_ to take me to places, screw me senseless and now how _dare_ you make me the bad guy."

"I did. I'm sorry."

"What does that do, huh? Will that make Oluo rise from the dead? Dead is _fucking_ dead, but—" how long have I been crying?

"Oluo called me before the car accident."

"What?" What is he saying?

"He said that if he can't make you happy at least I should do that in his stead but you know I'm married. I can't do that." Suddenly, the spirits of alcohol left me. He continued to talk, and I have no intention of interrupting him. "So he asked me if F/N was cheating on me, what will I do."

"Oluo always looked up to Levi." The memory made me smile amidst this eureka conversation. and despite the bottled up anger that burst out from my chest was the happy memory of long ago. "He imitated your talk, your cravat, even your stupid haircut..."

"And it was annoying as fuck." He took a seat, a few more steps farther but enough for me to hear him talk. "I told him it's understandable if he chose to leave," And I knew he was speaking from memory when his wife left him. "and to not come back. We can't really make them stay just because we plead them to and promise them we won't do it again."

"F/N leaving you changed her; I saw it when she came in telling me how much of a wreck I've become." I hugged my knees, the envy to her growth seeping in. I clenched my teeth, wondering what did she do to be that type of person despite the things we did to her. "It took a cheat to make her grow up."

"Oluo— he didn't do what my wife did."

"What do you mean?"

"He chose to stay with you; said he should go home and talk to you about it as fast as he could. He was worried you might leave him after he ran off."

The feeling of 3 year burden painfully lifts off second by second. Like a tension in the spine that held me in place, I was free. Every bat of my eyelash, every swish of my wrists, Oluo in a car unmoving and unconscious played in my head.

Everyday of three years.

And now the pictures play again, in a different light. He's gone, I know that. But I realized it wasn't the fact that he's not coming back that prevented me from living. It wasn't the guilt of my betrayal either. I am married to a man who accepted my shortcomings, and continued to do so until the last light left his eyes. I know I don't deserve the unfaltering loyalty, but I am overwhelmed that someone could love me as much as I would want to give myself.

_"...so get your shit together."_

The tears doesn't taste as salty anymore.

"F/N, she's lucky too. She shouldn't take too much time wondering whether to take you back or not."

"That's for her to tell." He stood, his foot pointing at the door.

"Levi?" He stopped, talking a pause to regard my call.

"Thank you."

* * *

Armin and the rest of the team kept calling your phone until your battery died.

Room service was as easy as 1-2-3. The booze didn't do much about the cold but it freed your thoughts. The lingering dread in your stomach grew larger and larger that it started to hurt. How long is he planning to stay there? The temptation to barge in and catch them red handed itches you, like a persistent scab on summer. You sipped in directly from the bottle now, apathetic if it looks unladylike, unrefined or far from what you are taught.

You stood, city lights gave you the gray glows of the night and it reminded you of his eyes. Maybe you're overthinking this. He wouldn't spend so much time trying to get you back and then break you again, would he? Or does he enjoy the whip and candy discipline, just trying to build you up and then break you down?

You are not going to allow that anymore.

You paced in swaying motion, slowly, trying to balance yourself. Suddenly you felt brave. With alcohol you might even confront him and leave him. But after that, what happens next? Alcohol would not help you get through everyday numbing the painful feeling in your chest that reminds you that he hurt you again, for the second _fucking_ time.

And then there's Kuchel. How would you tell her? 'Daddy's a cheater again, your grandpa was right all along.' Should it go like that? She won't just accept that and move on like people tell you on the internet. She adores him, and she will insist on seeing him.

This was the hardest part, you thought. Once you knew something and you're not prepared for the fall, you're just... lost. It took you years to get things straight with your life, and a few months more to get in terms of what you are. But then he comes back, smashing his way in and he showed you he is capable of change.

Then lets you down again.

Your door swung open, surprised that someone barges in when you thought you locked it.

"Been looking for you." He said, turning on the light, and blinding you thereafter. Ahh, the man of the _fucking_ hour. "Eren told me you didn't come down so I had dinner taken in here."

"You shouldn't have bothered." His eyebrows twitched when he noticed you tipsy.

"Looks like you already had potatoes for dinner."

"And you had Petra for dinner. Want me as your dessert now?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" His voice chilly. It's clear in your memory how he pleaded you to stay, when you left him four years ago. The panic before, now anger; the pleading, now exhaustion. And to be honest, it scared you that one wrong word that out from your lips might make your relationship with him crash.

You at the bottom, and him at the top.

You didn't say anything for the longest time, and he was looking at you, as if waiting for you to speak— _daring_ you to do so. Exhaustion and impatience in his features were taken into account. And you know you only have mere seconds to get out what you wanted to say.

But you chose to say nothing further.

The room service came in, stalling you some time to get yourself together. To compose yourself, to think how to approach this without the yelling. The impatience in his eyes were prepared to give up the night, and you wonder that if you speak one line, that will be you too.

He began to eat, without calling you. He did so fast, eyeing you still, he was expecting you to continue. It was a challenge.

"What did you do in Petra's room?" You said cautiously, as soon as he finished the last chew. He sipped his tea.

"I was only taking her drunk ass back to her room."

"Did it have to be you? Someone was there with you, why did it have to be you?"

"Because I need to tell her something."

"And what was that?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Now you scoff. You felt aggrieved, but you chose to keep the simmers down to flaccid.

"Levi you're not telling me that you went in, stayed there for almost an hour and tell me nothing happened."

He slammed the cutleries. "I went in and fuck her legs open, then did it again and again until she can't breathe. Is that what you want me to say?" He leaned in resignation, closing his red eyes as he did. He kept it closed until the silence felt awkward. Your long habit of biting your lip back at it, almost making it bleed.

"Then tell me something more believable— "

"Truth doesn't have to be fucking believable, runt. Can't make a good story for you just to make it easier to swallow." You saw him holding on to that strand of patience he has left. "It's the truth when I say I have to talk to her."

"Tell me what you talked about so we can get a move on and tell you whatever this is going on between us!" You can't hold it in anymore. Anger from injustice held back from you simmered and popped angrily, burning anyone within your parameter.

"What do want me to tell you? She's so fucking messed up that she mistook me for her dead copycat husband? I needed to feed her a _lie_ so she can move on with her damn miserable life. Do you also want to know what shape my shit was this morning?" His breath deep and heaving, his voice a calm, bold and deadly. His eyebrows furrowed, and it's the angriest you've seen him.

You know it was you who crossed the line this time.

It sure scared the hell out of you of the new beginnings you see with him. He's a changed man, you assured yourself. And you want to believe he is, because he had been giving you his time assuring you, tirelessly. It's like a constant cycle that his actions of penance ever present is permanent. And you wonder if somewhere along the line and space, you took it for granted.

For granted that he will not snap at you because he is at fault.

For granted that no matter how unreasonable your jealousy is, he will understand and continue his small, accruing acts of empathy.

And you begin to question yourself: maybe you've become controlling? Out of fear for yourself or out of greed that you want all the teeny tiny details of his day? You don't even consider giving him a break, you thought, as you observe the dark circles in his eyes, the sunken curve of his cheek...

"Is that what you want?" He said, his note quiet and lethal. "I can only assure you for so much, runt. So sit the fuck down and work what we have on the damn table."

He was not done. The more he talk, the more remorseful you get. You told him the wrong thing, and this is the consequence. "If I can't satisfy you now, at least let me take a fucking breather."

The words are lost in your tongue.

"Because I can get tired too."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to so many heart breaking songs, trying to summon that feeling of large gaping hole where I realize: 'shit, what have I done?' but do you think she overdid her worrying? 
> 
> If this was done to you, do you think it'll feel justified if Levi leaves?


	18. It's Not Your Problem

"If I can't satisfy you now, at least let me take a fucking breather."

The words are lost in your tongue.

"Because I can get tired too."

* * *

Your muscles tensed, but your eyes didn't drop a single tear. The alcohol was working, it freed your inhibitions. Your teeth let go of your lip, you swallowed hard and prepared yourself for the unknown consequences for the words that will come out from it.

"All I want is to know what happened inside awhile ago." You said, in between breaths, slowly, reluctantly, cautiously.

"I told you, I talked to her. I can't give you the details, but I can tell you nothing happened like what's going on the shit brain of yours." He also calmed down, probably sensing how scared you were from his outburst. He did not move from his chair, but his eyes attentive to any more questions you had in mind.

"Don't you think I need to know what I'm forgiving you for?"

"All you need to know is that we're long done with _that_."

"If you can't tell me a damn thing about what you did because it doesn't concern the right now, or me or any fucking else, I don't think I can give you the benefit of the doubt that you won't do it again."

There was a long pause.

"It'll hurt you. Bad." He was looking at you, as if pleading you to drop the questions of the things he did that he is not proud of. Are you ready to know? You thought you've come to the terms that you don't need to. But it's tempting now that it's offered to you. What will you do if you knew how bad it was more than you thought? Was it that screwed up— your marriage with him? Maybe you should've not let him in the first time you saw him at your office door. Maybe it would've saved you and Kuchel from all these things you thought you could let go. These are from the past, but the wounds reopened when he came back with the intention to re-saw them again, this time, permanently. They never healed.

You decided to let him do it.

* * *

The second and last day of your vacation turned out to be a retreat; to internalize the night you decided to finally let him burn you.

Your hotel room looked pristine, save the bottle of vodka you never finished last night. Now you sat at the window sill, little by little swallowing the words that run through your memory. Levi gave you time to think, as you asked him to. You both agreed to take the time off until you fetch Kuchel, hopefully giving him the words that needed to be put to rest.

"It'll hurt you. Bad."

"Haven't I already?"

"Petra and I did it a lot of times. In the office, in a hotel, in her house." You clenched your teeth, nose flaring but held the pain of long ago in its reins. "Are you sure you want me to tell you everything?"

"Just get on with it." You quietly demanded against your teeth.

And he did.

It started at a company get together, the one he was reluctant to attend but did because you told him off not being out so much to be on friendly terms with his co-workers. It wasn't a drunken stupor. How you wished it was. Maybe it will be easier for you to put it behind if you knew he was intoxicated enough to be irrational; opposite of how he is.

But you knew he doesn't get drunk.

It was consensual. She tasted too good; she knew where to lick, where to flick and where to knead. She knew what he wanted out of his fantasies he never told you. Petra gave him something to remember every time they meet in a bed, in a table or in a couch. How he bent her over that office desk he works with everyday for 1 and more than a half years. And you never sniffed any of it. How she pumped him and milk him dry and go home to you and do the same. Only you get the fringes of fat while Petra gets the meat.

And then, it dawned to you the new things he tried in the bed. So that's where he learned it from. And you can't help but feel disgusted to yourself how you cried his name over and over every thrust his inches did to you. Slow and rough, rough and slow.

Erwin took notice but never meddled with your husband's rendezvous. How could he when he too was busy fucking some blonde intern he didn't permanently hire after her probationary period? "Too much bother" he said. And you see them everyday and not one word did he attempt to speak to you about your husband. Probably it will also leak his indiscretions in broad daylight.

You're glad Marie found out.

And then the Coron vacation: a one time escape from the busy hectic schedule he runs. He said the executives are going on a vacation to appease some big investor and lure them to put their money on Erwin's company. Only, there was no investor.

He met with his closest friends: Farlan and Isabel.

Isabel never liked you; she said you're too goody shoes for Levi. "She's boring." was the sentence you overheard her say and said he needed that zest in contrast to his dull, mundane life. As much as he needed that vacation, you don't get to do that with him, not with them. She likes Petra. The ray of sunshine Petra. The daring, adventurous Petra and she was the epitome of soulmate for Levi. Farlan was the type to agree with anything as long as it makes someone happy. He agreed to keep it from you even when he met you and said Levi is lucky to have you.

_Bullshit. All of them._

Kenneth? Oh that bastard of a man he is. He loved what he did. Loosened up, finally he knew how to please _women_. He didn't really care how you two turned out, he was already out of the picture. He was the one who proposed to take a snapshot of a memory. Levi claimed he was against keeping one; scared you might find out and you did. He sent it to your husband like a trophy that once he brought a bitch for his friends to meet like a wife that waited patiently at home.

And he had the audacity to save it in his secret phone.

You sighed at the things recently known to you. The tears came and went. And you are tempted to drown them over the leftover vodka in the table. But what good does that make? You picked up the phone and tapped.

"Mom?"

_"Honey! How's vacay? You're worrying about Kuchel again?"_

"No, I—" you choked, your mother's voice soothed you, protected you momentarily. You wanted to tell her how much you just wanted to talk to her of nothings over a warm pie and coffee, but you knew better than alarm her. "I just want to check on Kuchel."

 _"Are you sick? I told you to pack warm clothing! You're always a light packer!"_ She heard you sniff your nose, not letting her know how tears ran in your face.

"Yeah, I got sick but not serious." You prevented yourself from gasping for air, momentarily distancing the phone away from your ear to even your breathing. "The weather's really bad, mom. Is Kuchel doing okay? She's not giving you a hard time is she?"

_"Oh no, not at all honey. She's excited to see you though."_

"Yeah, I miss her too."

 _"You rest and have fun in moderation okay?_ "

"I will _maman_."

"F/N?" She called you.

"Yeah?"

 _"Is something wrong?"_ And you almost couldn't hold it in. The tremor in your voice you held back but you knew couldn't, so you bit your lip to refrain yourself from sobbing. It ousted to a pitiful whimper. It's all in the past, and you thought you reconciled with that fact already and you asked for it because you thought you could handle it. You're not sure anymore. You're still trying to, dragging yourself to swallow. But you're on the verge of drowning. The hatred and pain of betrayal now stronger than ever.

You're tempted to let them win.

"Nothing, I'm fine mom."

* * *

Maybe I should swap the cravat for a tie tonight, is probably what I would think if I care. The theme of the party was 50s and I am expected to be there in a few more minutes.

Nope, not her. Nope. Not either— not a fucking trace of her in the hall. She is not really the type to like doing these things and I can see why. Some boring speeches thereafter, Hange nudged my rib.

What?

"Where's your wife? I don't see her."

"She's in her room."

"Ehh?" I couldn't resist the urge to lean away from this walking filth. Hange forgot to shower again for fuck's sake. "You fought again? I thought you guys are a thing again because you agreed to be here together."

"She's hangover. Instead of meddling with people's affairs, you should go meddle with your shower."

"Levi, you didn't do anything wrong again did you?"

"Oi, Erwin. Stop acting like you're all saint in your ass. You're not one to preach."

"Gunther told me you took Petra to her room."

"That's all I did. I'm going back."

"Levi." Erwin had something more to say, but I had nothing else to think that he would aside from work. He wanted me to owe him when he sacrificed his peaceful marriage when he tipped off my investigator. I am grateful, but I don't owe him that much that I will play decoy for whatever reason he had in mind, except work.

Something tells me I should go and check on her if everything's fine when I saw her door. We agreed to take a break, and I intend to honor my words.

Tomorrow is that day.

At least I have work to preoccupy myself, and I'd be a pussy to admit this, but it's been a long time since I've been **scared**.

* * *

You got dressed earlier than dawn. You didn't wait for the company car to get you and commuted instead. You're a light packer anyways, and sleep never came to you, no, not since yesternight.

It was late 4 am that you got home, empty of Kuchel's cackles. The grime of public transportation disgusts you, and took your time to shower, even when you hear your phone was ringing in your room.

You knew who it was and what he wanted, and he'll have to wait a little bit more until you're done scrubbing the tears, if anything is left.

_I'm at home._ You sent him a text. A reply in mere seconds reached you.

_Be there soon. Wait for me._

The 2-3 hour drive turned to 40 minutes given how early it was and the car he drives. The door squee open.

Just when you boiled hot water in the kettle did you hear his footsteps. If you aren't attentive enough, you could've burned yourself while pouring yourself coffee, and him, tea.

Your hands and feet sweat coldly. A lump in your already dry throat that you can't swallow no matter how hard you try to...

"Hey."

The pang of pain tore a hole in your chest, suffocating you from a single word. You could just hope your eyes don't water anymore as this talk progresses, because right now, you feel like you can talk to him.

You turned to look at him, but both of you forgot how to talk. Both of you expecting each other to go first, but both of you scared shitless to speak.

_But what must be done, be done._

"I have some conditions if you want in." You started to talk, offering him the tea he grew up with.

"Tell me."

"I can't guarantee you that I can forget everything that happened, but I can give you time to prove yourself."

After a long pause, he opt to listen.

"And I hope you give me time to deal with _this_." You said awkwardly.

"Haven't I been doing that already?"

"Yes," your breathing uneven. "But look Levi, I thought I've come in terms of your— _that_ , but it's just different when you come to know what type of exact monstrosity I let happen under my nose."

"That's why I don't want to tell you."

"But you know I have to!" Your eyes sting by its own wetness, and you attempted to control yourself once again. "You know I will, maybe it shouldn't be today, maybe years from now, next week— I don't know! But can you really think I can just brush it off without knowing what type of dirt I'm dealing with?!"

_Exhale. You can do this. With or without him, you have to do this._

"Look," you whispered at his limp figure. His eyes unreadable, but it feels like he is ready to go out.

Out of the house.

Out of your life.

Out of Kuchel's.

"Levi, I don't want you to go." You finally meet his eyes. Dawn crashing your still closed curtains, the emotions behind his steel gray eyes also dawned to you.

_Relief_.

"You look so ugly when you cry." He said, dryly. His thumbs wiping your wet cheeks, closing the gap between you and him, his voice whispered soft 'I'm sorrys.' and sweet assurances. What terrified you about this was the message might not get through. You want him in your life, you _really_ do and it terrifies you now more than it ever did; the uncertainty that he might make the same mistakes still linger in the back of your head. But it's _not his_ problem to sort that for you. He can _help_ , yes; tell you the things you need to know without the pretty omissions and the jargons that usually come with it. Assure you that he will not do it again; just tell you the straight truth, no matter how painful, cold or unbelievable it could be. It's a battle you need to fight day by day, little by little, until the memory of it becomes a blur to you.

Still there, but won't matter any longer.

Day by day.

He exhaled deeply, telling you that he knew what you meant and it made you aware how his eyes are so strained and tired that it's smaller than you remembered them to be.

"Levi?" He waited for you to speak, his eyes wandering everywhere except to yours.

"Before you did it, you love me right? No bullshit answer please."

"D-do you really have to fucking ask?" He pulled you tighter now.

"I mean, maybe you didn't love me anymore so you went and look for someone else." You heard his signature _Tch_.

"Well?" You pressed on.

"Next question?"

"That is the only question, for now." You heard him exhaled sharply, your head less than comfortable as he shove it in his chest so you don't look at him. There will be more of these type of questions from now on, just popping to your head, asking them without inhibitions and receiving answers that may be expressed or an understanding without the moving of the lips.

You know that whatever comes from his mouth is something you get to decide on what to do. Levi can only do so much but be patient with you. And you also know that most of the decisions you'll be demanded to make from now on, you'll think of him too. 

"You're the most tolerable."

"But that's not love though." You tried to break free. He instead squeezed you tighter, something in your hips poked until a bulge sit warmly between your thighs to your stomach. You could only gulp knowing _exactly_ what it is.

"I can just show it to you but we can't pick the brat on time." He leaned in to your ear, his low, suave voice made something in your stomach tighten. "And I don't think you can walk much more than you can sit right after."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how tempted I was to write an ending where it ends the other way.
> 
> I know it looks easy, the conversation between them. The answer never changed, (reader you strong strong woman) but the consideration you have to put on changes when you know exactly what happened.


	19. A Continuing Journey

"Dada, mama doesn't like bell pepper in her eggs." You heard Kuchel tell her dad off of your preference on breakfast.

"She used to." He told your more grown up daughter, meeting your eyes as if waiting for you to defend him. He was cooking breakfast, much to his dismay, because he preferred cleaning after. The kitchen, pristine; gleaming not by how new it is, but how much scrubbing it had to go through every 2 days. He thought you don't know that he cleans it much more than you negotiated.

You almost forgot how much of a clean freak Levi could become in the kitchen, bathroom, and in the whole fucking place, literally. Thank fuck you somehow were able to negotiate that the cleaning will take place only 2 days every week.

But the cleaning must not be just the usual dusting, but a whole new definition to the word _scrubbing_.

"You got your jacket?" You asked your daughter in between sipping of coffee. She's independent enough to prepare her own stuff while you take her at work.

"I got it mom." She said, and you saw she was smuggling her graphic tablet and her some other things she use to preoccupy herself to draw.

"Say Kuchel," you leaned in, palms in your cheeks, nails gently poking your lips. Your husband still preoccupied with the eggs. "Wanna go to art school when you get older?"

"Now that you've asked, thanks in advance mom. You're the best." She winked at you, a knowing smile in her lips.

"We heard the boss Lev." He turned to you, his cravat missing yet, his blazer and suitcase in the sofa at the living room.

"She gets to decide when she gets older." You looked at the little burnt eggs, but decided to eat it without complaints. To be fair, it still tasted good. "Now she just do what she wants." And you knew he spoke somewhere from his memory.

He ruffled your hair, and then Kuchel's as he sipped that almost forgotten, lukewarm tea.

It's been 3, going 4 months.

He had not yet exactly moved in because he was tied with the lease contract of his apartment for another 3 months. Some nights Kuchel would want to spend a night or 3 in his apartment, and you pack the things both of you might need.

He's still working with Petra until the Gala happens in two days, finalizing some more stuff that need to be taken cared off. He usually tells you where he will be and what time you can expect him to come home, who he is with and yada yada yada. You assured him you'll ask if you wanted to know, but he brushes you off and does so anyway.

"Lev, I'll go with Mikasa in fitting her dress for the Gala," you said, informing him as you indulge with his burnt eggs. "Kuchel and I might be a little late coming home."

"I'll be taking care of Erwin's taxes, I'll come late tomorrow again." He looked at you, "I'll be working at the apartment and alone."

You gave him a moue.

"You won't sleep here tonight Dada?" You're little witty Kuchel asked.

"I'll come here tomorrow night." He ruffled her hair.

* * *

_My God_.

When you thought Mikasa looks good in anything even in a burlap sack, is an understatement— her figure is for a muse to a designer: toned but not bulky, strong, healthy looking but feminine.

And my goodness does she look so dignified, respectable Japanese woman in a _Kimono_. Based on black, with flares of flirty scarlet and gold, it is adorned with hand stitched embroidery of flowers in the same palette. Finished with the touch of shimmering ornaments in her hair, and a _Geta_ for her feet, she looks... dashing.

The subtle beauty and elegance in the array of colors that seemed to describe her perfectly.

"Aunt Mikasa, you look you beautiful." Kuchel told her exactly what was trapped in your mouth.

Mikasa looked at you, hesitant that the price might be a little too much for one night. But shut up and take your damn money— she is going to be with Eren that night! She looked for signs of approval, her face cringing of the probable rejection that never came.

"You look like you're ready to go the Gala madame." You said, sipping the service coffee. Relief carved in her face.

"Are you really not going ma'am? You can go even without the invitation, your name is on the list." Mikasa's words made Kuchel turn her head to you.

"Mama, you were invited?" You smiled in affirmation.

"Sir Levi is going to be there."

"So is Petra. I'm not really interested in those kinds of thing. Besides, Hange sent me a new bath bomb and I wanted to try it."

You let Kuchel draw in the corner. She doesn't know what transpired between you and your husband and you both agreed that it stayed that way. When it comes to Kuchel, you deal with her as a mother and him, as the father. You both agreed that the aspect of marriage between you is separate with the aspect of parenthood. There may be lapses a few times here and there, but it worked most ways.

"Mama, you should go." You heard Kuchel loud from across the room, the pen still in her hands, and eyes not peeling from the screen.

"I don't have clothes though."

"Where do you think are we?" Sometimes she's a little too much for her own good.

* * *

You settled on a form-fitting, velvet, burgundy dress with ornaments of twinkling black in its midsection.

The only thing that you hated about this long gown was the its gaping rhomboid cut at the back, bordered with the same black adornment in the front. You're at least a little shorter than your husband, but the gown made you feel taller even without the high heels.

You swept your hair in one direction; having a hunch that it would suit better if it's done that way. You twirled, looked at that curve in your back to your bum you're usually hiding behind a midi skirt. You noticed no one was saying anything.

Is it that bad? You thought you look good.

"Mama, I think I'll go to gran's that day so you and Dada can make my younger brother."

"Kuchel!" The shock that your daughter is aware of those kinds of things made tints of warmth spread to your cheeks like an epidemic. But the kid had a point. Nope, not anytime soon. Probably. You are only trying it out, you reminded yourself, the Gala doesn't interest you. You threw your hands in resignation like a big no, and went to the dressing room to take the gorgeous velvet dress off. Your daughter however, ran into you, and stopped you from going in further.

"She'll take the dress! She'll take the dress!" Was what she said, her high pitched voice booming, alarming the fitting assistants. You couldn't be more embarrassed.

Levi showed up at your house earlier than anticipated, just in time to prepare dinner. His usual tired than exhausted features settled on the living room, his sleeves retracted and folded neatly, up to his elbows. Kuchel went to him. Her spectacles in her greasy nose bridge, slid lower the she couldn't see her father's detailed profile. "Dada, mom should come with you in the Gala."

"She doesn't want to, brat. That's a day from now, it's impossible to get clothes, but she doesn't look half bad in any of her clothes either." Patience in dealing with his daughter, no matter how tired he was.

"Actually, mom has one." Levi looked at your figure slumped near the stagnant fireplace.

"You bought one?"

"Gotta guard my man from fox's paws." You sipped your coffee, dry humor dancing in your eyes. You could've used a more obscene word not fox, but Kuchel might pick that out, so you settled with that sad word. "Why, you got a date?"

"I don't. But Farlan's gonna be there."

"Isabel?"

"Busy studying abroad."

"I see." Your feet dangled over the edge, ready to get up from the couch. "Farlan doesn't concern me as much as Dad does to you Lev. I can go with you and have fun." Only then did the tension in his shoulders eased.

"You're not going to beat him, are you?"

"Tempting, but no." You winked.

* * *

It doesn't take too much time with the little to no make up you have in your face, your hair swept aside, like how you did during the fitting, but this time, secured with bobby pins hidden among them.

Clean, simple, elegant. You thought, in contrast to the complexity of the gown you're wearing. Levi is waiting for your at the fireplace, you could imagine his ass slouched, his legs crossed like the mafia stereotype, his arms outstretched.

I'd be cool if he had a cigar in his mouth while you sit in his lap, but that's as much stretch of imagination you allowed to linger.

"Ready?" You said checking your earrings in place as you stride from the bedroom. His neck tilted up, your features inverted in his gaze. It didn't escape to you how his chest exhaled deeply, his mouth closed as it did.

"Not bad."

"Likewise." You said, appreciating his view. He's wearing a little more upped tux, but seriously, you wouldn't know. He just looked a little less... grumpy and more handsome tonight. But he always did. That's why them bitches tried to get a piece of him!

They did, but you're not going to dwell on that longer than you should.

* * *

The details of tonight soaked you with fun energy, in contrast to Erwin's sullen face masked with false vibrance and dignity. You heard his wife decided to leave him, after taking so many chances of hit and miss, both by work and by _other_ stuff going on his office. His wife, you pondered, chose the option you almost did months prior, and you can't actually blame her for doing so. You only heard Marie from words of mouth but never met her, much more than talk to her but you understand where she is going with this.

The sting of repeated heartbreaks pushes someone to _look_ brave, no matter how unready to make a choice, whether to leave and make a new life out of leftovers; continuing to reinvent oneself... or continue living with the person, hoping they will change— but that, _that_ happens rarely, you thought. And you're lucky one of those rare gems is your husband who seemed to be a _little_ more hasty in punching the code to his apartment.

Farlan? Farlan stayed the same, you exchanged greetings, left your husband with him to vibe with Hange, and you filled the scientist in with your commentaries on the new bath bomb they sent you awhile back; you also introduced Mikasa and Eren to the brainiac, who actually took time to take a bath and clothe up.

You found out Eren's surprise was more of a promotion surprise, that he will now leave the 12th branch of Survey Corporation to work with Hange, and is asking Mikasa if she would want to join him... since 'the apartment lent by the corporation is too big for one', in his own words.

You didn't see Petra. Heard she was busy in the sidelines, making sure everything was in place. She seems to be busy making a name in the industry, like you were back then. The ambitious ginger bitch, but it put a smile in your eyes.

You went in the windowful glory of his apartment, city lights reflected inside, enough to see the outlines of his face and the texture of his suit.

You strode, careful not to step on the long hem of the gown. You decided that since you never gave him a birthday present on Christmas day, you're going to give him one tonight.

"That couch," you said, the old black leather couch was the only ancient relic from your old home,unflattering contrast to the modern interior. Memories were preserved in there, and you just remembered how long it had been. "you kept it huh?"

"Yeah." But he was already busy with the zippers of your dress, a short travel given by how your attire is a semi-backless. He planted soft trail of kisses in your nape to your shoulders, and you can't help but close your eyes; giving in to the relaxing sounds of the gentle smacking of his lips against your skin.

The little puff of your sleeve was gently pulled down, aware of how fragile your dress was and how delicate your skin could be. You let him continue his gentle caresses, his hands kneading your exposed part of your waist, ornaments harshly stroking your skin.

"Sentiments? You whispered, and his hand was busy pushing off the other sleeve to reveal your bare back, warm against his chest.

"A lot, but that doesn't matter now." He yanked the dress off of you, his trademark roughness seeping in contrast to how quiet and serene his apartment was. "We can buy another if you don't like it." You got what he meant. A small tint of your doubt alarmed him, and he was fast enough to quash it with truth before it gets bigger.

"We never did it here," he whispered, flipping you over to face him. "and only if you'll have me," he leaned in your forehead as he said it. "then it'll be my first."

And you gave the answer you both wanted.

Gently.

He tasted bitter, in contrast to the sweetness of his fingertips felt against your skin; this is how you remembered Levi years before, but sweeter, _gentler_. As if scared any touch he does to every inch of your skin would remind of you a memory distant to you already, and still putting more distance as the time goes on.

You inhaled against his lips, and he does the same, but you both know the breathlessness isn't because of the longevity of the connection, no that's not it. The intensity of longing so apparent with every connection you have with him. And you're not even talking about the intimacy at this very moment.

You took off his coat, the pieces of formal tuxedo long gone and forgotten, leaving trails in the floor as he pushes you in the center mat. Moon light reflected against your collarbones, gems from your gown revealing their glow. The rag felt gentle against your back, the gown itching to free your skin, demanding to feel more of his warmth.

You giggled, the uneasiness in this kind of setting humored you. "You know, if you want to take me in the bedroom, that's fine too."

"We always do it in the bedroom." He responded against your lips. You snaked your arm against his neck, closer. Tighter.

"Time for scene change then?"

"We got the apartment to ourselves. No brat to be wary of."

"That's your daughter, hey." You chastised him with your kisses, your fingers tracing the scar in his lips, a result of the altercation few months back. He treated the scar like a medal of a job well done in getting you back. "I love you." You said, tracing his heightened features against the moonlight. "I love you so much."

And there was almost no more words needed for both of you when he reciprocated by gestures, tenfold, right now and everyday.

_Fin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I took the liberty to put a description of the dress the reader would wear, but If you're curious about what she wore, it's the same as the Adaline Bowman's New Year's Eve dress. 
> 
> Actually, I imagine her wardrobe to be like hers too, that's why she kept on wearing midi skirts and whatnots. 
> 
> Thank you for reading my fanfiction as it ended. Reviews appreciated, I am taking off.


	20. Spin-Off: A Choice He Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi’s side of things after you left. 
> 
> The series of spin-off is to show how your once, scum of a cheating husband grew (no pun intended) out of his ass.

It tastes the same but it doesn't taste just as good eating it.

Spareribs is a dish she rarely cooks, as it takes her a week to prepare. She makes it on special occasions: one, when she met Isabel and Farlan. Two, when I got a promotion and three:

our anniversaries.

She'll come back, she always does. Fights don't last longer than 2 days. She's probably with her mother, or in a hotel. We didn't get this far off our marriage if our _trust_ is something so puny to be as fucked up as it is right now. I'll talk to her in the office tomorrow; convince her to come home and talk or some shit along those lines. She'll listen and I'll try to convince her from there. She's not going to leave. It's just the heat of the moment; nothing to panic about.

She's not in the office.

Petra was sitting in my table and I want to shove her pretty ass out and get my windex to get off her ass mark she'll leave on it. I got the hint but I'm not interested. Where the fuck is my wife? She couldn't have resigned could she? Maybe she took a day off; didn't want to see her scum of a husband in the office.

"Hange." I didn't want to do this, but her absence makes me feel uneasy. Their doorknob alone is sticky and disgusting; greasy fingerprints everywhere. Can't fucking imagine how they make a living out of this shithole. "You seen F/N?"

"No."

"You sure? You always talk to her in the coffee room."

"Now that you mention it..." Talk faster. "I don't recall seeing her anytime today. Why? You fought?"

"None of your fucking business."

"That answers it. Give her sometime, she'll come around." Will she? She will, I know she will. I best believe she has to.

"Call me when you see her."

It's been four days.

No calls.

No new message.

F/N (phone) 47 dialed calls.

F/N Ackermann (messenger) _You can't reply to this conversation anymore._

_The person you're calling cannot be reached at the moment. Please check your cellular connection, and try again._

_Hey, can't call you right now, but leave a message after the beep. Thanks! Beep-_

That made it 48th missed call and the 48th time I heard her voice repeating the same, old, boring automated response. I can't believe I'm emailing my wife. She's not leaving. She's not fucking leaving me. The HR said she already resigned from the company, but something tells me that's just half the shit on the table.

"Erwin."

"If you're asking where your wife is, I just knew she resigned." He did not even bother looking up. "I just found out."

"Oi, you run this company like you know what type of shit you let out every morning."

"She's one employee Levi. I don't see the reason why I should keep an eye on her." He looked at me. "That's _your_ job, not mine."

The fuck did I just do to my boss, but damn that felt _good_.

"You like that, asshole? You're not much different so get your head off your fucking ass and tell me _where_ my wife is."

"I can't give you an answer I don't have, Levi." He was standing up, his jaw somehow misaligned; the fuck I give. "If she knew what you do on your spare time, you can't blame her."

_I know, I know that much. But let me see her. Please._

_"Hello?"_

"Hi," I said, unsure of how to ask without giving so much details. "Ma'am, do you have a spare time today?"

 _"Levi! No..."_ A brief pause. _"I can't today, but I can take this call. Is there something wrong? She didn't do anything to cause you trouble did she?"_

"No, she didn't do anything wrong, ma'am. But is she with you?"

I thought for a moment, the line went dead.

_"No. She's not here. You guys fought didn't you?"_

"I'm sorry. We'll sort this out. Please don't worry about it."

_"She's quite stubborn but please be patient with her, okay?"_

"Yes ma'am, I will." My car still stuck on traffic, on the way to her family's house. I know she's there right now and she may not want to see me, but I do. I want her back. _Immediately_. We can talk about this. She can hate me at home, insult me in the office, throw a slap, punch me— I don't care. She can do whatever she wants, but not leave me.

But she wasn't there anymore.

Her father was out for work, and her mother invited me in. I hate myself for coming here and asking their daughter's— my wife's whereabouts. It's insulting for them and embarrassing for me. Her mother told me she lied on the phone because the runt said to keep her whereabouts from me. She wasn't sorry, nor I expect her to be. If there's anyone, that would be me.

"I respect that, ma'am. I'm sorry if we made you worry."

"I don't know the details of your fight; she never told me. But at least I can tell you, she's safe."

"Ma'am," I hope the desperation doesn't show. " _please_ tell me where she is." There was a pause, she saw it, and she looked _disgusted_.

"I like you for her, Levi, but my daughter can make her decisions." She touched my shoulder, rubbing it probably like my mother would, but it never comforted me. She wore an apologetic smile in her face. "I'm married a long time, and fights happen. Give some faith in your marriage will you? Take it from an old lady."

_Give some faith in your marriage._ I've been with her a long time. That could have stood out like a stamp in my face but 'faith in our marriage' won't work this time. She'll question everything she knows about us. My bullshit will stand out to her like a sore dick in contrast to the years we've been together. I know her, but not this situation of being found out. It never happened before. And I have a feeling that if I don't see her now, I can't see her again, not in very long time.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but this is just an impossible job." Said the 14th incompetent private investigator I hired this year. Why isn't anyone doing their job right? They just have to fucking find one woman— _my_ woman and I pay gene-fucking-rously to make the process easier.

"2 months and you have nothing to show?"

"But we looked all over already, sir. There's no one by that name. We can't go ransack official documents—"

"I'll sign the consent forms. I'm the husband so it should be fine."

"That thing sir..." What. "They don't need your consent. We know the law, data privacy—" I can't hear anymore of his bullshit.

I tried cooking her spare ribs recipe every now and then but it didn't turn out the same. Eventually, I ate it at restaurants, hoping it will taste just as good. Who am I kidding? Her shit's _the_ bomb; no one can fucking copy her recipe. I stopped calling her mother, hearing the same 'I'm sorry, but she still doesn't want you to know.' I occasionally overhear her father wanting to talk to me in the language I am accustomed using.

The call usually ends with her telling off her husband.

I moved out of the house. It's too big for one man anyway. The apartment's fine. Not much to say but I do like that couch we always sit on. I find myself dozing off on it more than my own bed.

It's been 3 years and God knows how many more months I lost count. She's still not back.

"Levi, you should go home." Hange said. Can't they fucking see I'm working my ass off like I'm paid for?

"I got things to do. Erwin needs this by next week."

"And it's just Monday shortcake. You don't usually look like shit. How long since you've been home? Do you even know?"

"Don't know, don't care. Get lost."

"You're here 10 days now! You don't sleep, you rarely eat. Go home, you look dead!" They said, putting something in my table. "Petra wanted me to give this to you. I told her you haven't hired a secretary yet. The woman's worried."

"Why is she here?" Oh right, I fired her but Erwin transferred her instead.

"She just took care of something near— I don't remember, she told me to drop this for you." I looked at it. Spareribs. Not her recipe. I pushed it aside, it's eating the space.

"Hire a secretary will you?" Hange nags like a mother. But this works for me. Less time on my hands, more distraction until investigator the 29th something bring in the good news or if I have to fire him. "Also while you're at it," Hange's not done yet?

"hire a man so you can't fuck him _too_."

Now that's _below_ the fucking belt.

Papers flying everywhere. There was a crash. Loud thud; I think I also broke something. But Hange talked too much.

"Yeah," the coppery taste in my mouth. "I'm a shitty husband; went back doors to fuck around. 'Petra felt nice in his dick too.'- is that what you're telling people now? It's done Hange, nothing I can do about it. It's an irreversible fuck up on my part. She found out, she left and I don't know where the fuck she is."

"You've become so low that you admit Petra felt good huh? Two pussies better than one?"

"My wife's not a piece of meat Hange."

"So is Petra, Levi. Could you have stopped when she didn't find out?"

"I stopped!" I loosened the cravat. When did it become difficult to breathe? "I was about to tell her but she beat me to it!"

"What will you do if you found her?"

"Anything." I wouldn't trade her for the world.

"So go home, and take the subway. You'll fall asleep driving."

* * *

The days went on as they are, but she's still not here. Same old bullshit. Go to work. Eat. Crap. Clean. Go to work. Eat. Crap. But sleeping? Not much. There must be no time to feel anything.

_Bzzt_.

"What?"

"Found her." Well, about _damn_ time.

"Where?"

"Shiganshina, currently working under Survey Corp."

* * *

She has a kid, and damn it all to hell if it wasn't mine.

I observe her from the doorway. Her hair shorter and she looks thinner than I remember. But she seems... happy and content with how things are for her. At least until I'll enter the picture. She seems better off without me. So should I? _But I need to talk to her..._

"Kuchel, mommy's kinda into something right now yea?" The name echoed in my ears. I almost choked on my own spit; her face... dark hair like mine, thin ass lips, nose... _fuck_ , it's mine. She got her eyes— thank God she did. Imagine if the brat walks around looking angry all the time.

"Why didn't you tell me _we_ were expecting-"

"You're not in the picture anymore, Levi." She can't tell me that. I may be a shitty husband, but she colored out of the fucking line this time.

"I'm his father, F/N."

"Where were you then? Petra's?"

"We're over since the day you left!—"

"No shouting in front of Kuchel."

I told you, I ended it with her and I was about to tell you that night." What the fuck, it's been three years, let it go woman! The important thing is that part of life's over, I moved on, she moved on, but why can't you? I was wrong, I know that much. But at least I'm trying to make it work again. Just give me some time, just let me do something. Please don't shut me out. I suffered too, you did too, let's make it work this time.

Is what I want to say, but I get the feeling that I'll be doing something insensitive if I said that.

"Actually, I've never berated you about your Petra escapades before. How is she? Did Oluo find out? Should I tell their in laws?"

"She's married now F/N, let's leave it at that." Please leave the woman alone. I did this. Go at it on me.

"No, Levi. I don't think I should. No blushing whore should sleep with a married man and think she could get away with it. I think telling them will not suffice it. Should I sleep with Oluo as well?" The rage I felt at the thought shoved the burnout aside. I tried to keep it low; the brat will be terrified to see the stranger he calls himself her dada flip his shit out. I settled on a growl.

"You wouldn't _fucking_ dare."

"Language, _motherfucker_." She growled right back, and if it wasn't Kuchel between us, looking at us, I might have taken her then and there. Damn she's feisty. I like it.

"Funny how you want me all to yourself but you have no problem sticking your dick over your dolled-up bitch. I'm tired just seeing you, you piece of a nutsack." Was what my wife said. _My wife._ Never seen her like this, so I might as well put in on memory. I can feel something growing in my pants; I know what it is, it shouldn't be like this, but hot damn she's getting me good. It's probably the exhaustion talking; she was angry before, but not like this. The rooster's awake, and I need to do something about it.

* * *

The brat sleeps like a fucking log. I observed how she sleeps. Her eyelashes as thick as the runt's. Her cheeks are so... I poked it with a finger. _Squishy_.

I'm a father.

I'm a father now, and this is _my_ kid.

Wow, I am a father.

I hope the runt didn't notice how careful I was carrying her asleep because _my daughter's_ so small she might break. A piece of me stayed with her and I can't help but feel accomplished. So F/N ran away from me pregnant. I tried to recall the memory of her showing or gagging in the morning. Nothing of it. Then I know why my chest suddenly feels heavy. It has an English term called _guilt_. I wish I was with her that time. She probably didn't know that she was pregnant. To be fair, neither of us did.

If she gave me a chance— any chance how small, I'll take it. Shameless, call me. But I want her back. All the more reason that I want her back is this very sleeping brat in front of me. They're _so_ fucking worth it, and I can't emphasize that enough.

I miss this.

How much longer do I have to wait until I finally put my hands on her hips as she cooks? Take in her smell together with the steam of her cooking? I don't mind another spare ribs tonight as long as she cooked it. She's cooking some soup. Kuchel, I observed, loves soup. It's the first one to get devoured every time I catch the brat eating in her office.

She's used to this kind of set up now. She works, she takes care of _our_ brat, and repeats it all over again. I still don't know how she does it. My head starts to wonder if she ever had the time to take a man home with her. I mean, look at her. It won't be far fetched; she's a fine woman. I noticed her ring gone in her hand, and that made a rush in my head. Was she seeing someone?

"I better get going too."

"W-why don't you stay for dinner?" _Cute_.

"I don't want to impose."

"It's really no big d-deal. I think Kuchel's expecting you to be here when she wakes up. Unless you have somewhere to go, then that's fine-"

"What's for dinner anyway?" Told you, an opportunity knocking is an opportunity worth opening.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... I decided to make a spin-off because... quarantine told me so. :) 
> 
> This is to show Levi’s stages of grief. Will he reach acceptance?
> 
> More chapters soon! Thank you for reading my little fiction!


	21. Obviously Oblivious

So this is Eld.

Tall, blonde, goatie, but definitely not her type. I know her taste, and he's standing beside her. She can't possibly like someone taller than she can reach, or a goatie to itch her face whenever they attempt to— the fuck I'm saying. They can't have a slurpfest. Not on my fucking watch. The point is, she's married. _To me._ We talked alright, she wanted me to stay. Does that mean We get to be happy-in-the-sunset again? No, I'm still in the gray zone. And I know it's more than I deserve. She just took me in her doorstep, but not in her living room. It took 3, 4 years to do that.

Worth it? Oh fuck yes.

I reviewed the proposal and I'm proud she did her assignment. Not that she didn't before. When she's assigned something, (I can still remember that one time she got that artist to sign the contract in the lipstick line when no one else can because her agency's an asshole but that's a blurry memory now.) she scratches where it itches. It takes her nights planning, but the outputs she releases are hard to ignore.

"In arrears," she said, and I can't help but gulp at how mouth watering she is. She leaned back as she sips her coffee. Imagine _being with_ a woman like this. Not _having_ her, I realized that after hard thinking— but imagine. The 4 year ago me might not even wrap his head about it. Be too pussy to even do it. I didn't know I was dropping a fucking gold for a stone. Petra is **not** a stone, let's make that clear, but _my_ _decision_ to cheat is.

I don't want to screw this up. But until she tells me what this is going on between us, I'll have to wait it out. The answer is staring at her face. I just have to wait until she stops ignoring it.

* * *

I have to tell her that Petra will be working with me. And I have to tell her immediately.

Hm, _immediately_. I've used this word too many times in the past. I want my tea, immediately.

I need to see Erwin immediately.

I want to see her immediately.

I want her back, immediately. Asshole that I was.

Of course I can't be _with_ her immediately. I mean, she almost forgot about me given how busy she could be— the woman's healing, goddamnit. Let her sort it out, Levi. Can't just parade and expect her to be fine. To be honest, As much as I love how she is now, I feel like if I don't step up my game, I can't be with her. The thought almost made my lunch go reverse. I have to do _perfect_ in my job and in the fucking Gala, so she can be proud of me, as much as I am to her.

"I have to work with Petra for the Gala this year." I can see the disappointment in her eyes now. It's like she's hoping I won't say it but still expecting to. I know there's a lot more than disappointment in them, and I don't like where this is going.

"I see. But you don't need to get my permission." I knew it. Don't sound so disappointed now.

"I'm not getting your damn permission, runt, I think you need to know."

"Look, Levi, if you're sticking around because of Kuchel, you can see her anytime. But don't rub salt in my wound. You don't concern yourself of decorum, so if you need to see her, you don't need to be polite or make things light between us. That's not your forte anyway."

I'm losing my patience and I hope shit doesn't show how frustrated I am. I'm not going to do that crap any fucking more. I just want her to show me, at _least_ a little, that she wants to depend on me, that she _can_. But the more I try to do something, the shittier I feel because she's sending smoke signals that she doesn't need me anymore, among other things. I'm confused of all that don't make sense on the table. I can't fucking blame my wife because even in the years of our marriage, she hardly depended on me— now that I realized it, and I depended on her so fucking much I barely noticed. She didn't even like being held now, at least not by _me_ given how little trust I was able to invest on her. Can't believe I'm saying these but she's making me question my marriage to her. I shouldn't be angry, it's not my place to be angry.

She's so fucking worth it I'm saying, but _am I_?

Ah, that's the word. I'm _insecure_.

"I'm telling you because the last time I missed my chance, you ran away. Not gonna let you do that again because you're a fucking headache to find."

The thought that she's overwhelming me _again_ makes me angry of how undeserving I am for her.

Her eyes widen; looks familiar but the feeling is foreign. Nerves are getting me good not to look at them that it may confirm the things swirling in my head. I thought the answer is so obvious she has not just realized it yet. There's just no answer for now. If she decided she doesn't need my sorry, subpar ass, I can't pin it on her.

Then I saw something in her eyes like months worth of reward: Relief.

And damn, I never felt so hopeful. 

"Do you understand?" I don't want to scare her that it might change the look she's giving me. But damn she's smokin' biting her lip. And it won't be too much to ask if I take something for myself to remember tonight, right?

"Easy now, we don't want to wake our daughter up, do we?"

Of fucking course. Can't let our daughter see how we made her. But I was _so_ close to losing my shit.

"I can't force you to believe me when I say we'll only be working as colleagues," She knows what's up, but she has no idea what I want to do to her if she doesn't stop being so cute. "So just sit your ass down and watch me prove it to you."

"Change my mind then because last time I checked, you worked together too. That obviously didn't stop both of you." Tch, that's it. She can't put this on me if she always talks like this. But to be honest, I can't think of anything else but her.

Right now.

With me.

* * *

I want to see my family.

I want to write that instead of putting my signature on the next set of documents I have to go through. To be exact, I want to do what I wanted to write. The brat's probably drawing or reading right now in her office. Or probably they're going home now, about to cook soup.

To hell with this work and Gala, I want to see them. But damn, I want to be _on par_ with her.

I noticed the pungent smell of Petra's perfume in this document she wanted verification for. She thinks I don't notice how she lets her skirt brush in my fingers, or how she bends down unnecessarily while giving me her expense proposals. It's tempting, yes, but not worth the trouble.

"What degenerate bloodline do you carry that you can't understand the word BUDGET, woman?"

"Not listening Levi."

Petra want something big that Erwin doesn't see as necessary. The man wanted elegant and orderly enough to provide a fun night for every attendees, but it doesn't mean he wants to spend big. Wait...

Is that bird shit?

It distracted me that it's sticking strand by strand. She keeps on yapping and yapping that she didn't notice. Now that's fucking disgusting. I reached out to show—

"Levi?"

"Hi F/N."

Oh well fuck. I know how this looks. I can see her jaw tighten as if she's trying to hold a fart. She looks at me, demanding for an explanation and weighing if she should just flip her shit out. She looks... grisly. She looked as if she went on a battle and went home after slaying hundreds of huge ass, creepy weirdoes.

Oh, she's wearing bedroom slippers. Touché.

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not it."I said, and I hope she got the message. I didn't realize I was still touching Petra's hair, so I let it go and walked beside the runt. Assure her some more. "She had bird shit in her hair. Nothing's going on."

A pause.

"What are you guys working on?" She's trying to bite down her shit when she does diversion.

"Just the budget runt. Nothing much for you to be worried about." Don't lose your shit.

"He wanted me to lessen the proposed expense, I didn't want that. Tell your husband off would you?"

"Should I? Because the way I see it, you look like you wanted that role already by the state of things." Aaaaaand it begins. Fuck, this is awkward... but kinda hot though.

"Hey F/N, we're just working here. Stop being so jealous. We're not doing anything, or at least _for now._ " I should tell them to stop.

But damn this is hot.

"Oh goodness gracious, Petra, nothing can really stop you, huh? Not even marriage or Oluo can stop you from spreading your legs like a goddamn feast." That's _my_ wife right there, and I'm feeling something inappropriately in fucking salute.

"Have you told Oluo about this? How much of a slut you are? Friendships don't matter to you does it? As long as you get MY husband's cock, you're good."

"F/N," Okay's that's— don't start with my dick.

"Shut up Levi."

"That's your sole purpose in life now? Ruining people's families? Cause I have to admit, you make good living out of it."

"F/N—" That's enough—

"Levi, I've shut up for 4 _goddamn_ years. Let me put your bitch in the slut house she belongs. I'll deal with you later."

Half the things here and there and I didn't understand. I wasn't paying much attention. Damn it all to hell. I'm fucking exhausted, and I just discovered I have kinks for fightsex and aggressive kisses— well, any kiss from my wife would be well-received, but imagine if she kisses me like that again. I'm fucking exhausted, but if she takes me for a round—

"Levi, she's at the hospital," and everything just stopped right there. My fingers can't sign anymore at the news. "this is a first that she told me she wanted something."

"Why haven't you called me?"

"I did, Levi. You weren't answering."

Something rushed through my head like cold ass water. I don't know why she chose to put her Petra catfight over our daughter. Was it serious? What have I been doing the whole fucking time? Betting catfights? At what expense? My daughter's fucking time? "And you're telling me this now? Damn it F/N, your Petra bickers shouldn't come first, idiot!"

* * *

"Dada?" She peered, some marks on her cheeks still apparent. She looked weak, and I feel like I've failed at something so crucial. She didn't lose weight, that's a good sign, but I intend on not letting the brat go anywhere unless she's thoroughly checked. I'll fight with F/N over this if I have to. But she can't convince me not to put this to rest. I'll ask second medical opinion if necessary. Damn it, I just want her to be safe.

"How do you feel, brat?"

"Kuchel misses Dada. A loooot." She's so fucking cute.

"I'll stay here tonight, what do you say?" I just blurted that out of the fucking moment. But if she'll let me... I didn't know I was holding my breath. Looking at her in her bedroom slippers, her hair greasy, face dirty and oily; her clothes got some crumbs... stains on... I'll choose her disgusting self any day. I just hope I'm not too late.

* * *

"You should take a breather." Her eyes now red from staring in the screen all day, her glasses slipping in her greasy nose bridge... she looks overdue for a freaking shower.

"I have to finish these on time."

"You look awful."

"Tell that to Erwin will you?" She stood, prepping to go home. I can see she's reaching her quota. By the time she reached home, she's gonna cry. I rarely saw it, but it happened mostly when she was starting in Survey Corp. I didn't know what I was suppose to do back then. Heck, I don't know what to do now either even when I want her to take a rest. She'd have breakfast, lunch and snack in coffees back then that I had to buy her proper food. She'll usually forget about it until she can't eat it anymore when she remembers. Then she'd come home from work and cook for us. No whines, no fuck ups, just dead tired. It might not even be a rare thing that she cried. It's just... she might not want me to see it. She never _allowed_ me to see it.

I thought it's just the cheating that made her leave me. It's just the fucking trigger. I'm not just a dick because I cheated, but also, I'm a dick because I never really _had_ the chance to do something for her.

"I can leave Kuchel to you for awhile right?"

Wrong. I _had_ multiple chances to do something for her, but _didn't_. I really am a shitty husband for not realizing this sooner: she's so guarded. Before and now even more so.

I took her cautiousness for independence. All the while she might actually be crying for help but I was too preoccupied with someone else.

"Hey, we weren't doing anything awhile ago."

"Let's call it a day Levi, I'm too tired." She doesn't realize it yet, but she's shaking. She hasn't eaten anything, even lunch, and I don't think she ate anything for breakfast too. Who knows how sleep is treating her nowadays but I can tell she had been awake more than she should've been in weeks. Their fight awhile ago, work, Kuchel... this is too much.

And yet she's trying to brush it aside for later, when I'm not in front of her.

Rely on me.

"Not today, _please_."

"I already called someone to bring us clothes and hygiene stuff. I know you'll want to stay with the brat."

This is as much as I can do for her, for them. At least...

"And you? Kuchel wants you here."

"I'll stay here."

for now.

Until she allows me to.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words he used in his thoughts before he found her and in the Resolution chapter sounds self- centered. (Remember the words "Still Mine"?) 
> 
> But see, the hospital chapter is actually where he goes 360 evaluate his marriage with reader and not just the cheating incident. For reader, she didn't really think about how Levi was (it's kind of normal for him to be a little cold) because it never bothered her; that's just how he loves her, or so she thought. But Levi here reevaluates himself and found how lacking he is to be so called husband. 
> 
> Ciao Bella!


	22. Spin-off: From a Father, to Another

How does a virgin, pubescent boy react when he sees pussy for the first time? I don't remember. But seeing her in _my_ shirt, on a silky night gown, made me feel like one.

And my eyes like what they see.

She did lose some weight. Probably the juggling of being a mother and being a boss did a toll on her. If it weren't for the brat I would've taken that gown off and just let her wander around on my shirt, feet bare, hair a little damp.

Tch, not again.

"Make sure the brat finishes that pot session. She always takes it off when I'm not looking." I said, distracting my wife. I hope Kuchel doesn't notice my boner and ask about it. In my defense, I've read somewhere that stress, for some people trigger the flight or fight response. When the response is triggered by a stimulus, they undergo the primal instinct to mate and preserve the specie.

But I'm not a fucking animal though. What am I saying? Stress is getting to me.

I don't mind looking after the brat until she falls asleep. She really is a log sleeper. Doesn't get roused by little movements or quiet talks. The runt and I had small talks about her; apparently she missed me in those 2 weeks I didn't visit. _Visit_ sounds alienating. Though the brat sees me as her... father, (I still haven't wrap my head about that.) This woman in front of me don't see me as her husband yet. Not yet. In time. Probably. Although most of her features came from me— fuck yeah, Ackermann gene— her quirks came from her mother. I'm not complaining though.

Lights off, she said, but F/N still intends to work. I _had_ to do it, I know I did. It sounds like an excuse— especially not to cup a feel, but she needs to rest. Even her proud, postured shoulders now slumped and relaxed, betraying her.

This is the part that I hate the most. I burn myself out for years so I can get at least a few hours of sleep. I don't remember having a 6-7 hour session. It's not that I can't sleep because of thoughts running in my head, it's that, thoughts and memories of long before and after mom's gone do they reenact and animate themselves while I sleep.

I look like my mom, or so I could remember. We lived in a room at a building and she often let me play outside so I don't get on the way of her work. I remember this, she usually have this smile on her— **Fuck!** Not that one!

"Nightmares?" She said, and I didn't notice how dry my throat and fucked up my breathing was. Too heavy, too uneven. I'm just glad I didn't hurt the brat because I remember my wife had bruises before when she shakes me awake. I really am a crappy husband, now that I remember those.

"Surprised?"

"Did it ever stop?"

"It did."

"When was that?"

"Long ass time."

"When did it come back?" The worry on her face, _her face_ distracted me from remembering my mother's corpse and the smell of her body putrid in the bed we shared.

Until I can't remember it again.

"When you left."

She stood, and she pushed the bed so they'll stick together, and I gratefully accepted her comfort. The exhaustion, Kuchel, night terrors. I _need_ her. The insecurity biting my ass, like dude how can this woman take so much crap and still take me in? Offer comfort to me? How do you fucking top that shit?

"May I..?" she extended her hand, and I let her do how she does it. I don't know how it works. I don't know how to repay her, or give so much as she does. I don't think I have what she needs, not yet.

I woke up hours later than I normally do, since 4 years ago.

* * *

"Levi." Eyebrow's Erwin talked to me and I think I'm hallucinating because what I just thought did not make sense. The Wonderboy Erwin is unshaven, haggard as fuck, without the tie, and without a coat. "I'm in trouble." I know where he's going with this.

"Potential investor gone?" I'm trying to divert the topic to business matters. Sure, Erwin, Hange and I— we know each other way back. Erwin and I got hitched, Hange too obsessed that shitty glasses practically married the laboratory. Petra and Oluo too. But let's not think about them. Anyway, I know what he's gonna—

"Marie left the house." I fucking knew it.

"Huh? Then look for her, what the fuck are still doing here?"

"I already did, and I can't find her."

"What's that got to do with me? I looked for F/N for three years." Bitches gotta pay. "She's _one wife_ to look after Erwin," I mocked his tone years back when I was at this very situation. "That's _your_ job, not mine." I saw that pissed off glimmer in his eyes and I know he remembered it too.

"She did come back didn't she? Your wife?"

"Fuck does that concern you—"

"Just tell me," His voice so controlled but I can feel the tremble of rage in his voice. "She did, she'll come back."

"No." I said, might as well give him something to ponder so he'll stop fucking blonde interns and taking them to holiday beaches. "I had to look for her."

"How did you get her back? If Marie's going to drop her shares to Marley..."

"Well, we're screwed." I said, spraying my table of windex. " _Get_ her back?" I could almost laugh at the verb. "You don't get her, Erwin. You gotta lift fucking boulders. Then they decide in their spare time whether they want our cheating asses back."

Maybe I'm not one to tell him, but I too _was_ in that sinking boat. Erwin's gotta swim this time though. There's just no other fucking way.

* * *

I remember how they both have a thing for soy. Soft tofu, silk tofu, firm tofu, sweetened, in strawberry flavour—They'll dig in. It's a trait the brat got from her mother; one I'm familiar of, and I _sometimes_ use this to maneuver the forbidden _jutsu_ of bribery to my daughter in doing something for me. Nothing bad or illegal, just enough to stall some more time alone with the runt. She usually stays longer in her room eating soy gelato or anything she wants I would sneak for her, and there you have it: the duke makes the move.

Massages that _sometimes_ turn to groping— sometimes, let's make that clear. The runt slaps my arms to stop.

And not a centimeter close more than she's comfortable with when she's cooking. She tells me off by clicking her tongue.

Or this I haven't done yet: enter her bedroom. She usually closes it and I'd be left waiting outside. _Tch_.

It's one of the days where I get to see them earlier than usual. She's probably cooking now with a glass of wine on the table. The brat would be doing something in the kitchen helping out or in the living room with her sketches. She's good though, for someone barely 5. She could draw a person with good amount of detail and tell it immediately it's a person. No rotation or tilting of heads, debating whether it's a cow or a pigeon. You can tell it's a person.

A car is parked outside her house, so I settled to park in the shoulder.

"Dada!" Kuchel was giving me that 'oomph!' welcome that reached until my pockets. I usually ask her if her nose hurts; she has that habit of bumping her nose to my leg but I didn't ask this time.

"What typa garbage returns to the fucking bin?" Father-in-law said, hot cup of coffee in his fingers as he glared me down like the scum that I am.

No one really told me before, not even Kenny or Farlan— _Tch, what would they know_ , that when you marry someone, you somehow get married to the family too. I thought that was bull before, but years changed it somehow. In some degree it's true. You allow them a peek of what's happening enough to assure them I'm taking care of their daughter, as a husband should, but that's it.

I can't be pissed at them; she's not just my wife. Before that, she's their daughter. I crossed that line.

* * *

I deserved those punches he threw at me. Thank fuck I got them. But never have I saw red until today that I was barely holding my shit together not to throw him in the gutter for almost killing my fucking daughter. He didn't mean it, I know. But he could've waited until Kuchel's out until he blew his stacks. The aside from her head, who knows if the drawers and plates could've hit her? 50 points for being a great dad. Fucking hypocrite. Her daughter can take an army or two for this brat and he **_dared_** to put Kuchel in danger and calls himself the epitome of fatherhood? By the walls, eat a dick.

_"She good pussy?"_

_"Ya scumbag for brains!"_

_"Why'd ya let your dick talk for ya shitty little bitch!"_

_"I'm gonna skin ya alive motherfucker!"_

The punches felt like flimsy teenager's who didn't eat his load of sugar that morning. But damn the words... _stings_ , coming from _a_ father.

"Let's get you tucked in, yea?" I heard her comfort our daughter, throwing me a look I could only say was gratitude. I don't want Kuchel to be alone in her room, as someone who might have an unchecked concussion should be conscious, but I don't want my brat to see anything more of the bloody mess that might remind her. I wouldn't know, to be honest; the kid me would shrug it off and off to the next order of business. Kuchel, however grew the opposite of how I did.

I need some cloth and water to clean these off. Alcohol wouldn't cut it. Nose isn't broken at least.

"Let me." The runt said, but her fingers are shaking, her lips tremble, her knees are about to give out, and not one she noticed. Maybe she chose to ignore. Here she is again, taking in more than she can chew, and it's not like she has a choice either. She's doing that strong, limitless façade she usually wears, and after this? How about her? Who's going to take care of her?

"How's the brat?"

"She's fine, now let me worry about you." _Stop it._

"You could've protected yourself."

"And then? It would only prove how much he's right.

And if I did that, even if he's dead, he still proved how right he is." I decided to leave that detail from her. His daughter doesn't need to know what hell I would be willing to go to hurt her father if _something_ happened to mine. She's had too much for mere days.

"You already proved to Kuchel you're a great dad. Your daughter adores you, Levi."

"I know. And you?"

"Let's get those wounds checked, I'll get Kuchel."

Please tell me. I can't stomach this bullshit any further. Just let me do something for both of you. Allow me in.

"Are you getting tired waiting for an answer Levi?"

"I'm not a very patient man F/N," I wanted to remind her how fragile she could be. Her hands haven't stop shaking. There were nights when she had to finish deadlines back then. Her hands would be too tired to type another letter, her head was barely powered by caffeine. And they'll tremor uncontrollably, and then she'll massage her temples. That's long ass time now. But I remember what she _wanted_ me to do.

A kiss in her hand and one in her head.

"It might not have to be now, but soon, you'll have to give me one."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But damn the words... stings, coming from a father. 
> 
> I like this part because it tells you how much he's not only trying tonworm his way to reader but also to their daughter. He's like: Yes, I get where your dad is coming from so why can't he at least look after his own granddaughter? My kiddo? 
> 
> Anyways, 3 more to go and the curtain falls! 
> 
> Ciao!


	23. Spin-Off: Resignation

The stacks of documents I need to go through covered up to my ears. These are the things I need to read and approve by my signature. Let's not forget the unprinted stuff in this shitty laptop...

_Let it snow, let it snow let it snooow_!

It's that time of the year huh? Whoever thought it was nice to put a universal occasion for people to celebrate and waste their money is a fucking genius. Sure whatever do they think as long as it brings in income. For the first sentence, I meant that if I was drunk. The the second sentence is, I don't get drunk. I can't read another damn letter in this junk of a laptop, I can't remember what day it is, if only for the repetitive songs played outside like a broken receiver and I certainly can't remember the last time I've slept. It's embarrassing to say, but I smell funny too.

Damn Erwin and his payback.

12.21.xxxx

8:13 AM

I was waiting for a call— let me rephrase that: I am _tempted_ to make a call. Or I could just drop a message and ask her where she is, or if they're here now. That wouldn't be too much right? But God works in mysterious ways, I hear the rolling of luggage trolleys. They're here. I just have to know where her room is.

"This place is huge." I heard the runt's muffled voice over the door. Looks like I don't need to strain a muscle looking for her.

"Where's your room you say again?" Hange's, huh?

"It's xxxx."

"Huh, 2 rooms next to Levi's."

"He's here? Already?"

"He'd been here since I forgot."

Then some door closes after a few minutes.

* * *

"I'll see you on the next few days okay? Thanks mom. I'll get you souvenirs once I get back." She's pacing in the bed and the chair where her luggage was, her shoulder supporting her phone as she arranges her stuff.

"I did mom, don't worry too much," she looked at me, finally noticing me in the doorway. Can't be a side insult to my fucking height. _"Je t'aime, maman."_

"You look like you're ready for vacation." Don't be such a smug for fuck's sake.

"Vacation my ass."

"Why? Erwin drowning you at work?"

"That's an understatement." Her clothes won't handle the cold with a turtle neck and a skirt. She always underpacks whenever we go to travel. I remember that time when we were in Kho Phangan for the monthly full moon party. She brought bikinis but not cover ups that I had to drown her with hickeys and bite marks so she can't go out without it.

I don't exactly mind if she shows some skin when she's around friends. For fuck's sake, they know she's married to me. Short shorts? Fine. Shirt with short hems? Tolerable. But it doesn't sit well when she goes out on a bikini, then strangers catcall her like how they lip yap my mother. She settled on a skirt and my shirt instead. Isabel called her a granny back then, and I had to tell the kid off. The runt partied and she even jumped rope on fire. Eventually had that skirt rip shorter just above the knees because it got caught on flames. Fun times.

"Can't come with you. You'll be fine, right?"

"I got through for a few years, I won't be bawling my eyes out without you for 2 days." Look at the runt in a good mood. Did she feel better being away from me that it gave her space? Pretty cute.

"Does it still hurt?" She's tickling my lips— it smells like alcohol— and if she doesn't stop her eyes from wandering in my face, I could just take her there and then. Imagine me, unbathed for days. She'll be appalled, and that thought turned me off too.

"No. If anything else, it's itchy."

"It's healing. You should put some more ointment on it."

"I do. Where do you plan on going?" Flowers. So she's going to mom huh? I visited her grave first thing when I arrived, and the first thing I did was weed her headstone. Damn they're ripping me off paying for a year's worth and they can't take out the weeds. The runt didn't know if she liked flowers. But remembering her, she might like them; not one man who visited our room gave her some, and they had the balls to go and—

"Have fun with the rest, taste some native food, usual tourist stuff." I didn't know I was holding my breath until she said something. She didn't know how distracting she can be when memory lane hits me hard. Her casual intrusion brought me back to the present. To her. Damn. Corny. Not cool.

"That's not gonna hold in. You'll need thicker ones. Knowing you, you haven't brought ones you think you won't need." I gave her my coat. It shouldn't smell a lot like loopy diarrhea, but it's better than nothing on when she's outside.

"You should get some sleep, Lev. And Kuchel's at mom's. She'll be fine."

"I know."

"Go on, you have some more work to do don't you? Bring in the Holiday spirits!"

* * *

My eyes will pop at any moment, and I am in need of sustenance if I want to finish the damnful of Erwin's bullshit he rubbed in my desk to dissect.

"Oluo!" Petra was piss drunk swaying in the hallway and Gunther was catching up to her. I walked opposite her way like germs I try to wipe off every damn day. I realized she was actually channeling Oluo to me and in my damn undercut.

"Hey! Why did you leave? Do you know how much emotional shit I need to go through? I don't know if it means anything now, but I'm sorry. I didn't do it again after you left. So please, just come back..." this is getting awkward. I wanted to call for Gunther, but Petra, in her drunk glory dared to touch my fucking hair and take it in like she probably will if Oluo's alive.

F/N and Petra came to know each other when this drunk terminator decided to apply as my secretary.I was married to the runt already.She and Oluo were mutual friends with Erwin, Hange and I. Petra and I had a 'fling', as most people would ship long ago before Oluo and the runt came. But on my part, I didn't see it as something but platonic relationship. We weren't fuck buddies before or anything but some people (one of them was her father) pointed out, that it's 'too early for marriage' back then. I think Petra has a future ahead of her, given how competent she is.

I couldn't see her that way no matter how people say we look good together. I depend on her for being good at her job, and it earned my respect. Petra, as I interpret it, sees whatever relationship we had the same. Then she met Oluo and they bicker like a married couple. Call it tragic because ship didn't sail on our route but I'm so-so with the thought that it didn't.

Then the runt came in and busted my balls. She's just doing her job _perfectly_. She didn't know me or any of my bullshit reputation and I would not know about her if it weren't for office bets and gossips. I tried to woo the runt and long story short, we got married.

"Stop imitating Sir Levi, Oluo! You look good with brown hair you know!"

"Petra, Oluo's dead. Dead is dead. He won't come back even if you drink yourself wasted, so get your shit together."

I can see her sobering up.

* * *

There are things I am not willing to do. Stay in moldy hotels, share a spoon (unless you're my wife) share my toiletries, keep my house in a shabby state, anal, eating sushi, pussy eating—probably and ironically, _lying_. This one will be on me as every decision I made, should be. No matter what wisdom dictates someone to choose, no one can tell what's right or wrong until there's some sort of outcome. Petra needs to believe in something even if it's not real. My night terrors are the same; F/N would tell me they're not real but sure shit she's not lying, but it feels like she is. It's convincing; it looks real, it feels real and that's what Petra _might_ need now. An illusion, to keep on living. Give her something to be at peace about. Since I cut shit with her, I might as well do it like an asshole that will stay in her head. And not in any way am I doing this to ease what I did.

"Oluo called me before the car accident."

"What?"

"Oluo— he didn't do what my wife did."

"What do you mean?"

"He chose to stay with you; said he should go home and talk to you about it as fast as he could. He was worried you might leave him after he ran off."

She's sober now. Finally.

* * *

My throat dried up and my stomach lurched at this... uneasiness. She's strangling a bottle of vodka like a veteran pub drinker. Swaying like a middle aged salary coming home from an unsatisfying work. Her eyes puffy, red, crying. She's never a strong drinker. Wine is her best and vodka means something just snapped inside.

"You shouldn't have bothered."

"Looks like you already had potatoes for dinner."

"And you had Petra for dinner. Want me as your dessert now?"

My petty fights in the slums before was no training to rein in anger. That time of life was a filthy hotpot for frustrations, anger and desperation to get out. Control was something I've learned from Erwin.

_But I'm hungry._

_I'm exhausted._

_And sure as fuck, I'm human._

"What did you do in Petra's room?" _I can only give you so much as I have. I have flaws when we married and you're not a kid signing a make believe contract to fucking Disney._

"I was only taking her drunk ass back to her room." _I can tell you the truth,_

"Did it have to be you? Someone was there with you, why did it have to be you?" _simply because you deserve the peace it might give you, or so you can make decisions from there._

"Because I needed to tell her something."

"And what was that?"

"Nothing that concerns you." _But I can also tell you bluntly that I will **withhold** the truth from you._

"Levi you're not telling me that you went in, stayed there for almost an hour and tell me nothing happened." _Because I want to protect you from pain, or don't want to remember how demeaning my actions were to you._

"I went in and fuck her legs open, then did it again and again until she can't breathe. Is that what you want me to say?" _At some point I don't want you to look at me as an irredeemable piece of shit._

"Then tell me something more believable— "

"Truth doesn't have to be fucking believable, runt. Can't make a good story for you just to make it easier to swallow. It's the truth when I say I had to talk to her." _I'm trying to be better, so please take that in instead._

"Tell me what you talked about so we can get a move on and tell you whatever this is going on between us!"

"What do want me to tell you? She's so fuckingmessed up that she mistook me for her dead copycat husband? I needed to feed her a lie so she can move on with her damn miserable life. Do you also want to know what shape my shit was this morning. Is that what you want?" _It won't be easy to look past what I did._

"I can only assure you for so much. So sit the fuck down and work what we have on the damn table. If I can't satisfy you now, at least let me take a fucking breather."

_But if you can't,_

"Because I can get tired too."

_I'll understand._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s late! Academic responsibility called and it’s not like I have a choice so...
> 
> So at some point, people get tired don’t they? Tired, yes. But should tired mean give up or period? Or should it mean as a pause? A quick break. 
> 
> Anyone deserves that, right? I personally think he shouldn't withheld her the truth (i mean did tell her) that's some bs move thinking you're protecting he, well in the first place you did do something that hurt her. 
> 
> But he's trying, tirelessly, until now. 
> 
> Right?


	24. Spin-off: What Might Have Been

"Don't you think I need to know what I'm forgiving you for?"

The word _forgive_ somehow relaxed my muscles I didn't know were tensed. I looked down as I savor that little hope building in my chest. The cutleries are in disarray, but that doesn't matter now. She intended to forgive me. That thought made me feel tingly, itchy to hold her and tell her more how sorry I am. Maybe the cliché in the movies she liked watching happens in life. I want to do that. But _that_ , I can't tell her. Anything but hurt her. So why ask? Why would you intend to relive something that hurt you? It's already done, why torture yourself with the knowledge that I slept with somebody else?

"All you need to know is that we're long done with _that_."

"If you can't tell me a damn thing about what you did because it doesn't concern the right now, or me or any fucking else, I don't think I can give you the benefit of the doubt that you won't do it again."

The fact that she wanted to know no matter how it may fuck her up, for some reason makes me... expectant and at the same time, something feels heavy. She's telling me that whatever we have is worth saving; that she thinks I'm worth having for. The runt has more balls than a room full of men in any given working day, and if she left me once, she won't give two shits to do it again. But this time, I won't find her anymore. It _scares_ me. The last time I felt like crying like a sissy was when mom died.

When Kenny exited, I just waited for him to come back. There was no reason why he left, he just did.

And this, my wife has a reason. I gave her that. So if she knew what kind of nothing she will be leaving, I don't think she'll even think about it for 2 minutes.

"It'll hurt you. Bad."

* * *

Last night's party was a blur. All parties are. I finished all paperworks that distracted me for a day and a night, and nothing was left but wait for her to think about _that_. I hate this. I shouldn't have told her. She's probably hang over right now, and she would usually puke her guts out first in the bathroom, and then I'll hold her hair for her. The following blubs I have to bring in the pail. It's disgusting, especially that one time she had some in her chin and she attempted to kiss me. I love her, but that's just nasty. She'll have some water and honey the morning after. Then I'll make some oatmeal with bananas to replace the reverse shitting she let out her mouth. The bad breath. The oily face. Damn disgusting runt.

That time too, where she floored Miche in the presentation. It was a rumor she slept with him and now they broke up so she's acting up. But she didn't know there was that rumor. She just didn't like that idea that Miche wanted to release the Zeke NSAIDs for people with spine problems, with incomplete clinical trial. Long story short, Miche had to gibber most of the fucking time, and she totally floored him. What a woman.

Then the team building. She danced like a rock. She had always been bad at dancing. That time I didn't know. But she somehow carried on, biting her lip as she tried to parade any more dignity on the shit she dropped. Man, that was hilarious. She redefined the meaning of dancing. She's the reincarnate of onyx from Pokémon. At least she won all games she participated. She's just awful at dancing. Cringe. Urgh.

Waking up with her, that I did at the hospital. I just noticed my facial muscles are strained— _oh, I'm smiling_ — her face, oily, but still pretty. Hair sprawled at the hospital bed. I can't tell her this, but I went over her bed and stayed there. Nothing sexual, just laid beside her. Creepy? Probably. Glad she was too deep asleep to notice. She aged a little, probably the workload and raising our kid alone did it. If I didn't do what I did, who knows how many nights I could've stayed with her like that?

When she has periods— _the fuck am I remembering now—_ she'll curl like a ball in the bed or in the office as she works from there. That time she had leakage and I didn't know what the fuck should I do I had to fucking ask Erwin... nice move dickwad. That was a bad move, all things he advised me in wooing the runt were plain bad; well probably not all. The night picnic in the pick up truck worked, but most of the plan was my idea. Sitting in a formal dining restaurant works for Erwin's wife, but not the runt.

But anyway, I had to google what I should do. I used the fucking company computer and they probably saw my search history. Forgot to delete that one. The panic when Petra probably saw it. She and Hange gave me knowing looks for days.

And if she chose to leave, everything will be something I get to play in my head with no continuation.

The television noice just played in the background to distract me of the clock hanging in the wall.

_I'm at home._

I wiped the tear. The things the runt makes me do.

_Be there soon. Wait for me._

* * *

It concerns me that she took public transportation at this hour. It's probably mostly empty, but that's also the bad part, it's _almost_ empty. No one will help her if someone decided to get in with her, or mug her. She's tough, yeah, in the boardroom or in the office, but she can't even hold a butterfly knife, or a switch.

This is it. I want to know what she'll have to say for the longest time. She'll likely to leave. If she did what I did, I might not even stomach it in. Although she decided on one before, she might not give the same thing she was about to give right now.I'm trying not to think about it. Try not to think about it. Try not to—

How about the brat? I won't be able to see her then? The brat might not even remember me when she grows up. That... that stings. To even think I won't see her grow up a little more than what height I have. I won't be a father. Not anymore. But she got her mother, she'll be fine.

They'll be fine without me.

And I'll try to do without them.

I swallowed the tear. Not the time to do that. Do it after. She might think I bet on her sympathy. For now, I don't care about me or what happens to me after she tells me what she has to say. I want her to tell me whatever she has in mind, as blunt as I did when she asked me to tell her the details. I want her to tell me without thinking about her husband, her parents, or her marriage or her daughter. That's the best thing I can give her right now.

Just her, and the decision over the pain I can never undo.

* * *

She was pouring hot water in cups. Soon, the smell of the coffee blessed the whole room. She looked like she's the same as I am. She just took a bath but she still looks out of it. Her eyes look like a chihuahua's but redder, angrier, sadder.

Her lips pursed, and I know she's observing me just the same.

"Hey." I don't know if the awkwardness got through, but who cares now. Everything is just out in the open. It sounds awkward— I feel awkward, fuck this. But there's nothing I can hide anymore. It's just on her now.

"I have some conditions if you want in."

"Tell me." Anything. The word **_if_** made me hope. Would I be enough? There's something else left to do?

"I can't guarantee you that I can forget everything that happened, but I can give you time to prove yourself. And I hope you give me time to deal with this."

"Haven't I been doing that already?"

_It's pretty much decided already._ __

"Yes, But look Levi, I thought I've come in terms of your— that, but it's just different when you come to know what type of exact monstrosity I let happen under my nose."

"That's why I don't want to tell you."

"But you know I have to!"

_So just let me leave and stop torturing yourself already._

"You know I will, maybe it shouldn't be today, maybe years from now, next week— I don't know, but can you really think I can just brush it off without knowing what type of dirt I'm dealing with?!"

_You shouldn't hurt. I've done that for you more than enough you can take._

"Look, Levi, I don't want you to go."

The light was making her usual oily face shine, but this time in tears. For the longest minutes I've let her talk, I let her vent. I let her tell me her demands, and never once have I thought that she just wanted me to stay, for the second time. For the longest minutes, I thought what registered in her face was anger.

Now that sunlight hits her, it is desperation.

And mine, relief.

The itch to just hold her came strong. "You look so ugly when you cry." In the movies she watches the man usually wipe the tears on the woman's cheeks while he whispers sweet nothings. I don't know what to whisper, but I'll do my best to avoid the words 'fuck', 'shit', or 'damn'... for starters. So I did that. Not my style but I know she likes that. I'll take my time, learn what she likes and dislikes, the things new in her life; to take her in again.

Her scent.

Her shaking.

Her familiar warmth.

Her sniffling, strained voice as she speaks.

The shit she makes me do. Damnit, I love her.

"Levi? Before you did it, you love me right? No bullshit answer please."

"Do you really have to fucking ask?" She a fucking ESPer?

"I mean, maybe you didn't love me anymore so you went and look for someone else." _Tch_.

"Well?" _To stay as she sort things out on her own pace._

"Next question?" _And me, to be patient._

"That is the only question, for now." _At this point she will be asking questions like these, randomly._

"You're the most tolerable." _But I will have to tell her, as truthful as I can,_

"But that's not love though."

_because the runt can decide for herself._

Damn boners.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating if we should intrude Levi's head because the guy doesn't really do fluff. 
> 
> Do you guys wanna see that too? Fluff and NSFWs? (Wait, I don't even know if I should or can...) You know, to complete what happened in the apartment.
> 
> Please tell me so I know how many coffee I need to drink...cute and sultry songs to listen too and headcanons to research. Please. 
> 
> ( / ∆ \ )


	25. Spin-Off: The Afterparty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. 
> 
> This is the last chapter of OLAL. I wasn't aware that some readers are looking for it, and maybe I'll post it again. I just think this chapter is beyond my still crawling writing skills but I did what I can exploit on myself. So here we go. Forgive me if this is cringe. 
> 
> Incoming smut. You've been warned.

_"That's your daughter, hey." You chastised him with your kisses, your fingers tracing the scar in his lips, a result of the altercation few months back. He treated the scar as a medal of a job well done of getting you back. "I love you." You said, tracing his heightened features against the moonlight. "I love you so much."_

* * *

You noticed him flinch. The sudden jerk in his eyebrows sent signals that something made him uncomfortable. Didn't he like it when you say how spent you are to him? How much you wanted everything to be... normal and better even? Were you trying too hard? Did you wear your heart on the sleeves and on the fucking neckline too? What?

"The rag..." he started, "feet have been in here."

"Oookay." You said in resignation.

Sexy has jumped over the window. You can't help but laugh; the sultry, 'romantic' atmosphere now gone, replaced with easiness. This was how it _was_ , you reminded yourself, but that's long gone. Replaced with... this same-but-different sweetness of present.

Your gown almost off.   
Him and his button shirt.   
You lay-sit on the rag in the middle of the wide sala.   
Enclosed by the glass walls.  
Under the moonlight.

Would you have it any other way? If things didn't play out as it is now, do you think it might resolve some other underlying issues you have with your marriage? Was the pain worth it? Was he worth taking back?

Oh, you can swear to God, you wouldn't have it any other way.

He's not sporting his clean cut tux now; first buttons now undone, wrinkled by your grips awhile ago. Oh, you can't miss that softness in his eyes; that almost sleepy gaze he is giving you. Almost smiling but his thin lips continued its platonic expression. You bit your lip. Was he this sexy before? You mean, well, duh, you love the man but... now he's like some kind of walking pheromones in scrunched up shirt, his collarbones peeking from the spaces allowed by it. What the fuck is wrong with you? You're not a freaking 13 year old, you're through that phase! Get your shit together!

 _Bzzt_. "Hi, um, pizza delivery?"

"You ordered pizza?" He asked, standing up from the rag. Thank goodness for pizza. Your head's in the mudline of sex and scandals thinking of the things you want him to do to you, and the things you want to try with him. You're still biting your lip, and then you realized you have not responded to that damn question. You don't want to, seriously, it might come out as a moan.

It did, for fuck's sake.

You felt the heat in your face creep, the biting of lip coming to play. "Y-yeah!" You said a little too loud, at this point, you really can't hide anything anymore. The smug in his face is apparent. You know him; he likes it when you squirm. He went and got the good old pie. And hot damn his strides are beautiful. What the fuck is wrong with you. And that's not even a question anymore.

"Oi." He said, probably for the umpteenth time, poking your cheek with the pizza carton. "You still want your pizza or what?"

You came to focus. Earth to simp bitch, you need to get your shit together. "Yeah," breathlessly, good acting, first class try hard. "I didn't get to eat in the gala. You too, right?" You said, poking his lips with the pizza tip. He takes a bite, his gaze not looking away from you, even when he stretched that mozzarella, he is still _eyefucking_ you.

Maybe it is an unconscious thing coming to play, but dude how you gulp that spit. "L-Levi?" You said, observing how greasy his thin lips had become. "I'll... um, go take a shower." You trailed your words awkwardly, trying to force a straight face while doing so. There goes the biting of lip. The nervous habit coming out.

"Thought you're hungry." He said, still biting that pizza in your hand you totally forgot even existed. Fuck pizza, you're hungry for something else.

"Or do you want to eat something else now?"

You tried to steady the breathing. It's not working. There's just so much underlying second meanings in his words you just can't. "I-I'm fine." You gulped, and _oh_ how he enjoys this. You can see the amused stare he is giving you. Him giving you subtle hints to make you _admit_ you want him _now_. He's still eating from your hand, the pizza in question almost gone.

"You done?" You asked, as you look at him eating the crust, your wrist pulsating fast blood by his touch; he levels your wrist in his mouth. His lips deliberately touching your fingers in the process.

"You tell me." And he was not done looking at you, seemingly telling you you're next to fill him in. You prepared to stand, still eyefucking you— hanging on whatever you plan to do after his blatant flirting that you can't handle. You mean, you've done it before, many times at that, and somehow, he still gives you the 'virgin' effect that has not waver over the past years and months. Heck, it's just few months since you've allowed him to crawl to your bed, and he is not one to jump at the bone the first time he sees it. He's usually tired, sleep deprived and he prefers to crawl to just sleep it off. Depending on the temperature, you would be clinging to him for warmth, which he doesn't mind— actually he's closing the distance on cold nights because he knows you can't stand the cold; you holding his hand on rare occasions when his dreams become nightmares and nightmares become night terrors.

The focused gaze of a hunter. That was the look he was giving you. He's enjoying the hunt. You're the fucking prey, and you need to fight him back. You decided to keep him at his toes too. After all, you should have something to show for that 4- year independence you allowed yourself to have.

"I'll eat later, but first I need to take a shower."

You stood, taking the challenge. You walked, off with the heels, like a trail he needs to follow.

Then the earrings,   
then the dress.

You know he's eyeing you with only your panties now.

"You better eat. You're going to need it." His warning rings in your ears.

* * *

You don't have the sleeping clothes you usually wear in his apartment, so you settled with his shirt. And oh boy how he looks at you. But never mind that, the rag in the center of the living room has few layers or fluffy, thick blankets and pillows. Behind it is the antique sofa you had, and in front is the television. "You know me well." You teased, drying your hair with towel.

"You like shabby things."

"I like _simple_ things. Let's start with that."

He stood from the sofa, and seemingly walking towards you but he walked past you.

"Levi?" He was waiting for you to talk. You're biting your lip, trying to hold your tongue on the question or a request you want to ask of him.

"Um," okay, you're not making this run smoother. You ponder a few more seconds about how to ask it that he came closer. It did nothing to ease the nerves coming to get you, and the silence of his waiting made it so much worse. "I was wondering..." _he's patiently waiting. Go on, ask the man, pussy!_ "how did you do it with—"

"Not gonna do that to you."

"I mean you said that was, um, like your fantas—"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Hear your wife out!"

"No." He's walking off, and you just have to tug that shirt to insist further.

"I'm not jealous or some shit like that, I just want to know... how you like... things..." the 30-ish year old confidence you built for years crumbled for every syllable you speak. It showed, and the things you still mumbled senselessly proved it even more.

"I mean you might find me boring or something right? I don't want that—"

He grabbed your jaw, an overpowering order that you look at him; his fingers almost poking holes in your cheeks. "Stick out your tongue." He said, the boring, almost monotonous note he plays in your ears whenever you speak to anyone, patent. But you didn't comply with his order. You're _equal_ , not some type of the best tasting whore on weekend discount that he gets to play with. You resist his roughness, a violent head shake to remove his hand and his filthy order.

"I'm your wife, Levi, not your bitch."

"Glad you follow." He said, letting you go. How creative could he be to prove your point. But you can't help but wonder...

"Then does the wife bore you then?" He flinched, irritation apparent in his eyebrows. You didn't mean to irritate him or anything. It's just that, you feel the need to know how he wanted things in the bedroom. There's nothing wrong with that, isn't it? Maybe he thinks you're still insecure over the whole Petra affair-- probably-- doesn't matter tonight, it's just unfair. He knows what makes you tick and you're fumbling your hands like a vestal virgin who has not heard the word sex until it's time to go.

So yes, you're pretty insecure, because you want to know _him_ too. The other him hiding behind that expensive trousers.

He pulled you by the wrist, his eyes not leaving yours. He smelled like lavender and fresh linen. He said he needed shower? No, what he needs is to take you.

Now.

He kissed you by the cheeks, trailing up while leaving pizza smell to your jaw, his forearm encased you. The tickling sensation of his lips softly brushing against your skin felt heavenly. The electrifying sensation made you goosebump...

"You think I'll get bored with this?" He whispered against your cheeks. The confirmation against your hips. "I can tell you about it all night,"

_Oh fuck._

He looked at you, his hands not leaving your waist.

"but can you?"

The amusement in his eyes.  
The smug expression he rarely wears.  
Checkmate.

He loosened his touch against your waist, seemingly going to let you go now and let you eat your pizza while you wait for him to finish taking a bath...

_No_.

But you just took a bath! You can't possibly join him in the bathroom, right? Right?

The door closes mocking you got the answer wrong. His fingers dig in your thighs, his kisses gentle and becoming harsher by the minute. He carries you in the lavatory sink, settling your ass in the countertop. He took your hands to undo his buttons. How can you not comply?

Oh how you wanted this. You want him.  
His warmth.  
Breathless like you.  
Gentle and rough.  
You want it all.

He lifts you off, bending you over the countertop. You tilt a look and notice that the mirror reflects the obscenity of it all. How pent up he is, and how he gives no fuck about your cute cotton panties that he did not bother removing them.

"Look," he said, as he plunged his cock in. You did not bother chastise yourself of how delicious he felt. The pain of the suddenness and the savory spasm that will start to build up as soon as his cock starts gliding in and out. "Look," he repeated himself and you did. "does this look like it bores me?" His rough and slow antics intoxicating your senses... his hips sway back and forth reflected in the mirror while you hold yourself steady by how rough his intrusions are, and how d e l i c i o u s l y s l o w he pulls out, half way.

_Rough and quick._  
_Primal and raw._

His fingertips dig in your hips, knowing it will leave redness or possible bruising tomorrow, but you don't care anymore. Leave that for tomorrow. How he angles your hips to meet him, the slapping of skin echoing in the bathroom and soon after, your cries for release as you beg him to slow down...

He lets you go, but only to let you catch your breath for a couple of minutes. He removed the rest of his clothing, eyeing your just fucked form in making an effort to support yourself.

"Levi one point, runt zero." The smug champions his tone, and he was daring you to fight back. "You still think you can last a night, _wife_?"

"You won't last after a nut or two, shortpiece." You barked back, quite ballsy of you after being bombarded with dick punches that you still have to recover from. You snaked your arms in his neck and he gladly took your lips. Your pussy still pulsating from the orgasm you had, your lower stomach still tense and sensitive. His dick warm, sticky and disturbingly hard against your hips, and you can feel the little nooks and crannies of his smooth member as it continue to rub against your skin. Kisses harsher than the last time; pizza in his tongue, bitter coffee of long ago none in your mouth but him and him alone.

The panties forgotten in the floor, you let yourself get soaked in the warm shower. You kept the shirt and you let it stick to your skin; you like wearing something that belongs to him as he reminds you again just how right he is.

_Still mine._

Now that you see him all exposed, you can't help but linger your eyes, taking in his soaked figure of a man under the shower head.

"What? You forgot not everything is short or something?"

_Oh my gosh, that why it hurts when he gets too rough._

You might want to rethink your response a while ago. Maybe by the end of the night, you'll feel the breeze or the echo when someone screams in your pussy. Maybe you can't walk right after that you'll need to use leave with pay for work this time.

He cushions your head against the hard tiles, his lips talking how much it adored yours. Hand feeling a cup here and there, twisting your nipples and massaging your breasts like a squeak toy. He didn't wait so much to grab and lift a leg, your toes strained in keeping your balance as he plunge right in in your still sensitive pussy who seems to refuse smooth slides of alternate in and outs. It is a mixture of pain and tickles. But the more he continues to barrage avalanche of thrusts after thrusts, did it start to hurt. Considering his girth, and the violence of his push and pulls, your pussy stopped lubricating, and it's starting to burn.

"Take the knob." And so you did. He let his fingertips sink against your thighs, the embarrassment of being opened to adjust to his cock's liking and being spread like this is getting to you.

_I'm gonna_ g _o insane!_

And again

And again

And again.

"Wait! Levi wait!" You **screamed** , the pain searing and more apparent than pleasure. He slowed down until he totally stopped. Your toes hurting, your pussy burning, the shame in the embarrassing position... is _this what Petra had to do everytime they---_ you shake the thoughts away.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, and you felt like you disappointed him. You know he's rough; that's the protocol ever since you married him save for some exceptions.

"It's fine, my toes hurt." You decided to stay silent about the other things. His face does not register guilt or disappointment... But his eyes, it says anger. To you? No, you dig further from the steel pools of simmering anger.

_Ah, to himself._

He lets you go, and you reassure him with soft trails of kisses. He's still angry, the coldness in his eyes says so. You take off the shirt, it's not really doing much but will probably bring you sneezes and coughs the next day. You look at him, _softly and gently,_ probably not his forte, but the fact that he stopped? He is trying to.

It's just a small lapse, that's all.

"I'm fine," as you crave for his warmth under the shower. Now you remember: Levi doesn't like too much skinship even before. He's the type to be comfortable with pussy pounding and taking in the bountiful view of your ass as he watches how his cock would disappear from every bounce and jiggle. Seldom are the times it would be intimate, like, yeah sure you've done missionary but there are those times where that position makes you blush of how intimate missionary with him could be. It's not just the weight of him against yours or how he easily slides and owns your every intimate space with his cock; there's just something while he tells you to look at him. He never whispered sweet nothings before...

You snake your arms and close in the gap.

"I'm fine." You assure him, but he almost didn't believe you.

* * *

He laid you in the small nest of blankets and comfort he built. You know what he's doing-- trying to appease you from the pain he is sure he caused you awhile in the shower. He understood. He might need to bear with the slow taking for a little while more, as you too, need relearn how he usually wants it.

_Slowly, gently._

There is no need to hurry, you have the rest of your life to do that.

You pulled him close. He is hesitant to make the first move as it might hurt you, but you assured him for every movement you make.

"I'm fine..." you whispered between kisses.

Gaining more confidence, he started with your cheeks, leaving trails to your neck. He sucks it enough to leave a mark on where he has been, and he licks it like some sort of apology right after.

To your collarbones.  
To the plains between your breasts  
To your stomach,  
To your thighs,  
up to your _womb_.

You _moaned_ his name. The erratic bombardment of his second nature gone away with his gentle kisses. You can't help but grab him up; wanting to feel more of his warmth and weight in yours. You reciprocated the kisses in his mouth, and to his neck, your hands wandering in his biceps.

"Please," you plead, and you know how he likes that. _For fuck's sake_ you want him to just plunge it in like he did in the bathroom. The throbbing almost hurting, making your toes curl. At this point you're too slippery and too twitchy that you just want his cock now.

"No, not yet." _Ugh, stop with the tease already..._

He continued to roam with his mouth, licking every curve and sharpness your body has. Hands busy kneading your softness, sculpting them, memorizing them. It's not just him who forgot, and yet, he tries to study how you want things to be in private.

And he is quick to learn them again.

You wrap your legs around his hips, telling him the urgency that you need his cock right there and then. You can feel the tension of his facial muscles from the smug he is wearing. You just can't help wanting the dirty do you? No matter how professional you carry yourself in the office, you have that little, dirty slut making you slippery at the feel of his tip. The trademark suddenness never gets old, but he doesn't move; _fucking tease!_ he was sucking, planting kisses around the swell of your breasts while waiting in signal for you to let him continue.

_Just fucking do me already!_

You loosened the knot of your legs in his hips so he can glide out, but he chose not to move. You traced his arms, squeezing them in frustration to demand him to start the thrusts— your freaking squeezing his cock now, and he still hasn't move that it starts to tickle— he looked at you, the attention of his eyes now to yours.

"Levi two, runt zero?"

"Just fucking move already!"

You kissed him, firm that it stays to linger. But that, that kiss did not stop until he doesn't want to muffle your moans of pleasure piling up and and up while his cock glides in and out.

_Deep and slow._  
_Gentle and loving._

"Look at me," Levi said, still at his constant and quick-to-change pace of sliding his pulsating, veined length in and out of your pussy. He wanted to be rough, you noticed, but he's trying to be patient and not repeat the same thing that happened in the shower. His breath tickling your face, and it only heightened the impending burst of pleasure when he brushes his lips to your cheek. And so you did.

"I'm not gonna break you know." You said against his forehead, half whispers reached his ears, and he somehow took your giggle as an insult against his kisses. He received the message but settled on a compromise. The itching of his trademark rude intrusion back at it, but this time, he took the time to frustrate you with slow pull outs. He sits upright, bare back leaning on the antique sofa as he made you sit on him.

Now this made you cry as you milk his cock, while he stretches your pussy as it slides deeper and deeper down... and your just halfway in.

You have not even started to bounce.

"Looks like you're in for a _break_ down," he mocked, busy sucking your now bouncing breasts just in front of his eyes. You moaned, and gasped and cried and tried to steady yourself by holding on to his shoulders. You wanted to bark back something witty but fuck your brains out, you're too preoccupied by how _good_ he feels. You're sensitive as it is, given the recent orgasm, but he is relentless on guiding your hips lower and deeper until your pussy gratefully complied to another impending orgasm building everytime you swallowed him until further up the base.

Toes curled as you feel that delicious spasm and the twitching relieving you.

_But he's not done yet._

He quickened the pace, noticing your legs cramping, he cushions your fall against the pillows, not once relinquishing the connection of your pussy to him. Levi flipped you unceremoniously, the roughness and haste signs he is about to cum.

The gliding of his cock in and out your pussy is something he likes watching. You know that, as much as you get embarrassed by it. But damn, the tension in your stomach at it again.

_Damn it damn it damn it!_

"Told you to eat that pizza didn't I?" His voice much lower now. You could only scoff as you can't think of one liners right now. Now is just you and his cock filling you in. He cozies himself at piling his weight on top of you, his arm, secured in your waist, the other resting in you neck.

"Guess you get a point this time." He whispered in your ear, the air in every syllable of his words tickling.   
You heard him grunt; the low vibrato like a pat on the back. To be fair, you didn't really do anything. You let him take you as he pleases, and as he pleases he takes you, your pleasure stacking like jenga he builds you and destroys you piece by piece all at the same time. He flipped you to face him just before he loses it, his seeds planted inside you and continued to do so. Now it's your turn to mock him.

"You're a goner after a huge one." You said, savoring his expression, committing to memory, how his jaws tightened, how his eyebrows twitched and how lips tasted while you feel him spouting his seeds inside. 

Then it dawned to you. You have not been taking your pills for a month now...

Panic rose up like bile.

"What?" He asked, looking at the clock. It was past 3 AM but you don't care now. The dread that you might be in for another pregnancy if this continues until dawn made you breathless. His cum well received inside you, no trace of excess in your thighs... he noticed the panic and repeated his question.

"I forgot to tell you, I'm not taking my pills for a month now." You wait for that disappointed slap on the face....

"Guess the brat's gonna be a big sister now."

"Not funny Levi!" You slap his chest, but he catches your wrist. The fear so visible that he massages your fingers and lets it go. Your pregnancy to be called delicate, is an understatement. By that time, you can't go to work so you had your team members bring in the work for you as you work from home. The pail on standby whenever you have morning sickness which did not go away, and the swelling of your feet you can only wear bedroom slippers and it's not even that comfortable. Let's not talk about the weird cookery/science experiment on fusion. Then, labor came. The spasms leading to it was sudden and in sharp pains, sometimes intermittent, or frequently long and agonizing. You felt like your about to be ripped apart when your water bursted. Your mom and dad had to help out with that.

"I'll be with you this time." He said, and _so_ uncharacteristically at that. He reached for your forehead and wiped it first with a tissue nearby. (Always so damn organized!)

An air light kiss.

The reassuring gesture enough to quiet your thoughts. The panic subsiding, the afterglow now apparent, blinding to him and tempting him for another. But he didn't give it. You are so ready for another fluff.

You sit upright, intending to check out the cold pizza sitting forgotten somewhere. You stood, naked but you don't care, as you take the pie in the kitchen and put it in the microwave. He followed soon after, betting on something he never did before.

He started massaging your breasts, his breath tickles your nape, he planted kisses against your skin. You tried to punch in the seconds the pizza will be reheated; but was probably the most difficult thing to do now, your thoughts of momentary clarity again on jumbles. He wants another, and as much as your pussy wants it, your stomach wants something else. He pressed the buttons for you, as he made you sit in the countertop, legs wide open, your pussy still sore from his recent cock diving.

And again.  
And again.   
And again. 

He looked at how you surrender your head in the sudden intrusion. Your elbows supporting your weight as he plunges in his usual rhythm of deep- slow-quick-rough. The pizza still not done but it looks like you're about to, again.

The pleasure burst and lingered into waves as the beep of the microwave muffled your cry of his name.

"Lucky you." He said, and savoring the feeling of you twitching against his length, breathless, almost insane and definitely intoxicated by him.

_Damn him and his Ackermann genes!_

The serving of pizza now resting with you on the countertop. You attempted to hop, but man, legs about to give up on you. Your muscles still hung up on that delicious, phenomena he brought you to your knees.

He looked at you, noticing how you tried to support yourself by the countertop.

"Can't walk?" He teased, the lingering amusement playing only in his eyes. "Or do you want to be on your knees this time?"

"I wanna eat." You said, hopeful your muscles don't betray you like awhile ago. "Let's um," you fumbled with words, awkward that both of you are walking around butt naked, and eating pizza and fucking like rabbits in the kitchen. "you know? Take a little break."

"You can eat the pizza while we try on the couch next right?"

"Could you have a little more respect with the pizza?" You said, taking a bite. Damn it, little dry, but it'll do for the night's sustenance.

"We could stop, your legs' about to give out."

"Tummy do wanna, pussy don't wanna." If you can't fuck with your cunt, you're gonna fuck him with your eyes. He walked over to you, hoe instincts biting the maximum. He looked at you chew your pizza, his hands already traveling to your waist, down to your hips. The moment you take the last bite was the moment he carried you to the leather couch, and you have not even swallowed the last chewed pie in your mouth.

And there he gave you what you wanted;

Bent you over that couch;  
Spread you like a goddamn peanut butter on bread;  
Pressed you for the city view in his glass windows;  
And let you tower over him as you bounce in his cock, while appreciating the view.

And he did it again, and again, and again.

The sun started to rise.

* * *

He carried you over the makeshift pillow fortress, your exhausted form limp and panting heavily beside him. He got you some water, while sipping some for himself.   
He's not the cuddly type, but for some reason, he made a semi-exception today; tissue in his hands as he wiped off the sweat on your forehead, and how he finger combs your hair, smoothing it in the process.

"Levi?" He opts to listen. You're tired, but you need to tell him. No secrets anymore, that's one tacit agreement your came up with, and you're not going to break that.

"I got an offer to come back to Marley." The revelation earned you a raise of eyebrow; he was waiting for you to continue with the full details and you do. "They're willing to overlook the marriage clause as long as I work with them again."

"That's shorter distance to where you work right now."

"I know," you agreed. And Kuchel will be going to school soon. The distance to cover will be easier than that one in the 12th branch. You know he's thinking about Kuchel as well. "But I won't see you at work anymore." The doubt from his past indiscretions seeps in, hopefully it doesn't show in your eyes. But who are you kidding? He sees it the first time you started to feel it, and he was quick to take action to assure he won't be making the same old, nagging, mistake still healing at the back of your head.

"Need to check if I'll be fucking some intern?" Bullseye.

"I just don't feel comfortable leaving Survey, and I like where I work right now..." you mumbled the last part. "and that too..."

"Then stay. Why fret about it? I don't know which option you should choose, I can never advise you on that."

"But I don't want to look like I'm staying in Survey because of you. People might think I'm just sticking because I'm guarding you or something. Paranoid wife, or something like that."

He didn't speak for a moment, the sunrise making him glow.

"That's not your intention. You like working in Survey? then work here. When did their bullshit got through you? Did I fuck it out of you?"

"That, you're probably right." You giggled, almost sleepy.

"You need help cleaning yourself up?"

"I think I'll be fine," you said, clinging closer to him. Gone is the sticky sweat, replaced by smooth brushing of the skin. The cold is getting through you, and he knows exactly what you want from him. "texted mom, we're going to fetch Kuchel tomorrow. That's fine, right? You think I might be over imposing her stay?" But you don't need to fret, the brat is more independent than most of the kids nowadays. She's more interested with drawing than anything or anyone at the moment, and you plan on exploiting that today.

"Brat's good." he said, guarding you from the cold.   
  


_Fin_.


End file.
